TOM: More fish flakes, sweet friend? [lights dim, Servo sings] Oh, Tibby, my Tibby/My heart is a mess/I don't have a protective shell/Over my chest. So people can HURT me/With the cruel things they dooo/Yet somehow, sweet Tibby/I know you hurt, too. Oh, Tibby, my Tibby/Reality's hard/So Tibby/Let's play in the yaaaaaaard! Oooooooh, Tibby Oh, Tibby!/[Crow enters]He runs like the wind/A couple of inches--aha!--/And then back again! Oooh-doh-doooh. CROW: Uh, may I take a verse? TOM: Oooo-doo-doooo. Well, if you feel it, Crow. CROW: Oh, I--do. Ahem! TOM: Well, Crow. Then by all means. Join me, won't you?