America

im sitting in the sky, i don't want to die, i don't know how to fly, but i know i must try. ive told more than one, just little white lie, sometimes i laugh, and sometimes i cry, i know to make friends, who cares if im shy? the mysteries near, and the answer is nigh. i do see the future, but i know i cant scry, although sometimes im up, i try to get by, i really don't like, when people just pry, i have to admit, the best is my buy. i am a Cyclops, but i don't have one eye, my room is so clean, while my house is a sty, i was born in the desert, my mouth is so dry, im sorry to say, but this is goodbye.