Mister Cellophane

If someone stood up in a crowd and raised his voice up way out loud. And waved his arm, and shook his leg, you'd notice him.

If someone in a movie show yelled "Fire! In the second row! This whole place is a powder keg!", you'd notice him.

And even without clucking like a hen everyone gets noticed, now and then. Unless, of course, that personage should be invisible, inconsequential, me.

Suppose you was a little cat residin' in a person's flat
who fed you fish and scratched your ears, you'd notice him.

Suppose you was a woman wed, and sleepin' in a double bed beside one man for seven years, you'd notice him.

A human being's made of more than air. With all that bulk, you're bound to see him there. Unless that human bein' next to you is unimpressive, undistinquished, you know who!

Cellophane, Mister Cellophane, should have been my name, Mister Cellophane.

'Cause you can look right through me, walk right by me, and never know I'm there!

Never even know I'm there !