red, orange, blue
rose, apricot, sky or
love, giddy, and calm
is it red, is it orange, or is it blue

twenty-four, twenty-four, twenty-four bugs.
tiny bugs, a bit smug, evil ones, crushed.
little heads, smaller legs, concrete beds, dead.
twenty-four, twenty-four, twenty-four bugs.

when the sun comes up
when the birds start singing
i like to go outside
and count all the dewdrops
on the tulips in the garden
and wonder what its thinking
does it like my company?
or would it rather be alone
and look at the sun?

there is a little monster that is with me everyday.
the monster made me feel sad and hurt.
the little monster didnt like me much.
i spent so much time with it it became a part of me.

the little monster made me feel aufull but i kept him.
i kept him close to my heart.
the little monster was a part of me after all.
i would be nothing without it.

the little monster was nibbling away at my soul.
someone asked me if i was fine.
i didnt feel fine but, i knew i would be.
i told them i was alright because i was.

the little monster almost desroyed me completly
but then i reilized that the little monster was not a part of me
but it had already dug into me deep enough
i couldn't get it out by myself.

so i asked for help.
it was so so so very hard.
i went to them and i told them i wasnt alright.
stumbling through my words as the little monster tried to cut my tounge.

but i did it.
they got me someone to help me reach down
and pull out that monster inside of me.
finaly after being locked up, i was free.

i could come back someday.
but not today.
today i am happy.
today i am free.

small puddles form
on the ground with each drop.

the sky cries and the children run outside
to play in the mud.

You look out and count
the splashes on the window

one, two, three, four, five ... lightning,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten. thunder sounds.

the children run inside and look out the window.
it is raining in the spring.

The snow crunches underneath your feet.
the wind wipps past your face;

Your ears turn pink
and your lips are chapped;

You walk into the garden,
everything is dead;

Except one thing.
roses in the winter.