Do you think,
the yellow brick road,
sparkles when,
it rains?
Dorothy,
we aren’t,
in Kansas,
anymore.
The tin man,
has become,
your best friend,
and your dog,
he’s running away.
Oh poor Dotty,
I’m so sorry,
the witch,
it’s actually,
deep inside.
Don’t you,
understand?
It’s raining,
the hanging man,
he’s swinging,
and the road,
it’s sparkling.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 2:17 PM UTC
Do you think,
the yellow brick road,
sparkles when,
it rains?
Dorothy,
we aren’t,
in Kansas,
anymore.
The tin man,
has become,
your best friend,
and your dog,
he’s running away.
Oh poor Dotty,
I’m so sorry,
the witch,
it’s actually,
deep inside.
Don’t you,
understand?
It’s raining,
the hanging man,
he’s swinging,
and the road,
it’s sparkling.
Request permission to use this poem