Dreamland

Cats play the fiddle, Flowers love to whistle, Trees would grow candy on their heads. The birds are always wise, the bugs love being high and a crazy woman down the orchard road loves to bake hot bread. And sometimes I'm quite innocent and naive to know there's no such place. But all I have to do is believe that there is a place as this. A place where clouds are all other colors in the sky, A place where no person ever cries and only the bad is that ever dies and curiosity makes us travel by. And little rabbits crawl as the little mice hop through tiny little doors of the King's Wizards' castles. It's a dream like this, where everyone is in smiles playing croquet in the land that stretches a mile. Music is played and everyone dances, something so perfect on momentarily glance.