It's Amazing The Difference A Bit Of

I Tried On The Farmer's Hat, Didn't Fit. . . A Little Too Small - Just A Bit Too Floppy. . . . . I Tried On The Summer Sun, Felt Good. Nice And Warm - Knew It Would. Tried The Grass Beneath Bare Feet, Felt Neat. Finally, Finally Felt Well Dressed, Nature's Clothes Fit Me Best.

One Day He Said, "i'll Tell This Town How It Feels To Be An Unfunny Clown." And He Told Them All Why He Looked So Sad, And He Told Them All Why He Felt So Bad. He Told Of Pain And Rain And Cold, He Told Of Darkness In His Soul, And After He Finished His Tale Of Woe, Did Everyone Cry? Oh No, No, No, They Laughed Until They Shook The Trees... And While The World Laughed Outside. Cloony The Clown Sat Down And Cried.

At Night My Mind Does Not Much Care If What It Thinks Is Here Or There. It Tells Me Stories, It Invents And Makes Up Things That Don't Make Sense. I Do Not Know Why It Does This Stuff. The Real World Seems Quite Weird Enough.

I Am Writing These Poems From Inside A Lion.

My Skin Is Kind Of Sort Of Brownish Pinkish Yellowish White. My Eyes Are Greyish Blueish Green, But I'm Told They Look Orange In The Night. My Hair Is Reddish Blondish Brown, But Its Silver When Its Wet, And All The Colors I Am Inside Have Not Been Invented Yet.