These are my favorite things,
taken to the pawn shop,
These are my favorite movies, books, and trinkets,
thrown in the dump,
and my favorite memories,
framed in plaques of wood and plastic,
Mary goes round merrily, making its way
round to take me to the moon,
and a Monday no longer mundane,
and the imperfections of my reflections,
worn around my mane
bejeweled