Sounds like sunshine,
On a gasoline rainbow,
And throwing rocks in the lake,
While reenacting that scene,
From the 50s movie you saw last week,
Where some 20-something doll face,
Spins about with her hands in the sky,
Giggling in a daisy field,
In god-knows-where,
While Mr Might-be-right,
Watches from the hood of his rusty pick up truck,
Inhaling tobacco fumes like there's no tomorrow


*Lovely