Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It could have killed me!

But to humans -- greedy, filthy, stupid humans...

Oh, come on now...

But this man... the Doctor...

But if you do watch...

Don't be an-gry!

Glamis hath murdered sleep,

Well, when you're not looking.

Every night we dive deep into that inky pool.

'Please stand clear of the pod.

'More, please.'

May the Gods look favourably upon you.

Yes. I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm sure you'll be fine.

We have to go back.

♪ Bom, bom, bom, bom, bom, bom

We need a distraction.

And then, there's this.

.. just in the corner of your eye.

'The Morpheus song!'

Balm of hurt minds,

You can't fight them, Doctor.

Septembrie 19, 1972

Something electronic in the Morpheus process

'You know the one.'

I know someone who'd love to get Chopra

- OK. Really? - Yes, really.

What he wants is to get that thing off this ship.

'The song, please.'

None of this makes any sense.

Keep going, move it, move it, move it!

'or taken from the station itself -- the only footage available.'

Blood cells. Skin cells. Mucus.

♪ Give him two lips Like roses in... ♪

'Nagata, this is Deep-Ando! May the Gods look favourably upon you!'

I just needed to find a way to get them off this station,

Chopra! 474! May the Gods... Where are you?!

So, what do we do?

The dust conglomerates. It moulds itself into a humanoid form.

For the Gods' sake, come and get me.

That's you, Clara.

- What now? - Talk.

You can't just throw accusations like that around!

Oh! Have you brought me to a space restaurant!?

Faulty filament. Three-day week.

This is my station.

Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care.