Happy As Poop
Oh for the days of my long lost youth
Making paper airplanes, watching em glide
Looping like barnstorming pilots of the 30s
Above the tree tops like birds they fly
Our imagination never saw paper airplanes
We saw ourselves as pilots on board
Soaring skyward with not a worry in the world
We could even hear the engines roar
Another favourite pastime was climbing trees
Just like masts on a pirate ship
Looking out on the ocean with a telescope
A musket hanging from my hip
Another fantasy, being a famous hockey star
Heard the cheering of adoring fans
Dreaming at night, scoring the winning goal
No more school, no more final exams
Oh for the old days, hmm perhaps I'll rethink that
It's pretty damn good from where I sit
Each stage of life has it's own special happening
Now? I'm happy as poop!!!
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