I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

Every lie, every single one, is in some way a truth.
Every truth, every single one, is in some way a lie.

Think about it.

Pretty boy
Never liked his toy
Pretty boy
Was a killjoy
Pretty boy
Wore pants of corduroy
Pretty boy
Never played coy
Pretty boy
Took away her joy

Ugly girl
Never liked her hair curled
Ugly girl
Chewed on a pearl
Ugly girl
Had her mind in a swirl
Ugly girl
Fell when she would twirl
Ugly girl
Thought she could be
A pretty boy