Within the Manic Lullabye?
When all around was blue and grey,
Why did said pudding fly away?
The time has come, my frenzied friends,
For tying-up of all loose ends.
But it must be true, I feel,
That none of this is really real.
(Except, it�s open for debate,
For all of stanzas one through eight.)
So clap your hands in jellied joy,
Our Manic ship calls �Land ahoy!�
We pull ashore without a care,
To find our gangplank isn�t there!
Now�s the part where we all drown -
That�s where the metaphor breaks down,
But since there wasn�t one to start with,
It isn�t all that hard to part with.
And while we�re on the subject, are
The Munchkins playing on guitar?
The music spreads and fills my ears,
Causing frantic floods of tears,
For though they just have little hands,
Munchkins make the best rock bands!
I groove to their almighty beat,
I whistle, sing, and stamp my feet,
(Which is just fantastic fun,
When cheering in a crowd of one!)
And as they take their final bow,
I do the same. It�s over now.
Hush little baby, close your eyes,
Dream of my Manic Lullabies�
