index

I’ve got a fly in my eye.
And I’ve got a sty.
And I’ve got a grain of sand from the desert.
The rain, that’s what’s gotten in my eye.

The birds don’t cry, they chirp.
Babies don’t wail, they burp.
Good kids don’t sulk, they cheer.
And grownups don’t ever show their fears.

Oh, why is it so bad to cry?
Why can’t I just say,
I’ve got tears in my eyes?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s