Qball
The Real
my sister had a nursery rhymeset of figurinesshe'd often let me play with them, i'dset 'em up in different scenesfifty plastic army men, led by supermandestroyed the ranks of mother goosemary and her littlelamb slips away and catchessister getting realand i can too, as long as i don'tmake a soundwhen we were real and we were in lovewith everyone and everything, i guess itwas the beauty of bluebird clears his throat of phlegmand static singing operaticevening comes, and the butterflies arebats eat the spider that had saddled upbeside herand the dish, his lovin' spoon werenever foundand i'm taking flight seeking relief, the lure of handkerchief so whitei chase it straight into the ground
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