| Crimson sunset bleeds on the sky The grey clouds rain black upon the world. The birds don't sing, the squirrels won't run The children stopped playing ages ago. There's no such thing as green, yellow, or blue. Cats, frail like skeletons screech on fences, And a cold wind blows a lonesome swing This is my world of happy Would you like to stop by? __-kyla-__ |
| My world of happy |