The world is perfectly round
though dented here and there.
Each August it picks up shooting stars
appearing from who knows where
My mind was never so perfectly round
triangular nor square
nor have I recently ever been
a whale, giraffe or koala bear.
Evolving forms like flowers on the moon
explode as they enter the air
but the petals fall down
like a golden crown
when all the people stare.
Oh when I was a pirate chief
and fought with a grizzly bear
at seven or was it half past six
I went to bed without a care
but now that age has gone into reverse
it no longer seems quite fair
that the peaches were eaten in old Bombay
and I was left with the pair.
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