The egg it is the source of all. Tis everyone's ancestral hall. The bravest chief that ever fought, The lowest thief that e'er was caught, The harlot's lip, the maiden's leg, They each and all came from an egg.
Clarence DayTender are a mother's dreams, But her babe's not what he seems. See him plotting in his mind To grow up some other kind.
Clarence DayBabies are unreasonable; they expect far too much of existence. Each new generation that comes takes one look at the world, thinks wildly, "Is this all they've done to it?" and bursts into tears.
Clarence Day