In the strangest of times, I want to swear,
I should wear, long green underwear.
Walk any street, in our little town,
Undressed or not, smile or big frown.
How is one sure, that this not the way,
When old folks like me, just want to play?
Happiness flows through our crazy day.
I saw a city crowded and free,
People who thought, normal they be.
Here at my place, it makes little sense,
To build a garden, white picket fence.
Not that I would, such a mad thing,
Rather would hear, old Big Ben ring.
Out in our palace we take strangest chances.
Middle of night, pancakes with dances.
Whipped cream, blue berries, wine and red flowers.
This goes on, for hours and hours.
Whirling around, fleet feet in the air,
Things only normal when others wide stare.
Some think normal is how you should be.
Do they know any better than me?