Something's growing under that wing
I think a face is dawning
Oh no, the bugs are growing faces
And it's crazy to me
how you seem to see
things with your magic eyes and,
maybe it's not the type of book
you could read to your *fairy*
or take my book of rhymes
back off my shelf
Because I am washing all these pages
They're tearing at the seams
I'm scraping up my knees for
somehow the world to open up
and swallow all these words
that are making all these chapters
*they're disappearable*
to me
I cut the moon in half
and stuck a piece to my hair
It made the back of my head glow
golden-yellow, then I took
ten stars on sticks and placed them
In my small metal
bucket I gave the other
half of the moon to you, oh
so you wouldn't forget me while I'm gone.
Because I am washing all these pages
They're tearing at the seams
I'm scraping up my knees for
somehow the world to open up
and swallow all these words
that are making all these chapters
*they're disappearable*
to me
And oh, my love we could live on the sun.
And wouldn't we be attractive riding in our
shiny motorcars with eyegla**es full of stars
and plenty of paper for scenery paintings?
Because I am washing all these pages
They're tearing at the seams
I'm scraping up my knees for
somehow the world to open up
and swallow all these words
that are making all these chapters
*they're disappearable*
to me