Who am I, Really?
This is the person that people don’t know
I don’t want to shrink heads, I want them to grow
I’d like to have 24 dates in a year
Two of them each month, but why?-it’s not clear
I’d like to have at least one kind of each gem
It matters not where I may find them
And also each variety of semi-precious stone
Somehow I can’t seem to leave them alone
A feather in my cap of every color
Otherwise my life would only look duller
I’d like a great body and belly of flat
I don’t want it shown where it is that I sat
I must have the sharpest look in my dress
Of course shoes to match and nothing of less
The finest of scarves and hats, you see?
This would make life what I want it to be
I’d have my own pool for all else to drool
Some big trampoline from my childhood dream
I’d learn my piana, I’d fly to Nevada
That’s what I could gather, yet now I just lather
In luxurious suds-it’s much better than mud
And be then content I don’t live in a tent
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