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.
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