I opened my eyes And looked up at the rain, And it dripped in my head And flowed into my brain, And all that I hear as I lie in my bed Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head. I step very softly, I walk very slow, I can't do a handstand-- I might overflow, So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said-- I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

I've found my missin' piece So grease my knees and fleece my bees I've found my missin' piece!

I tried on the farmer's hat, Didn't fit. . . A little too small - just a bit Too floppy. . . . . I tried on the summer sun, Felt good. Nice and warm - knew it would. Tried the grass beneath bare feet, Felt neat. Finally, finally felt well dressed, Nature's clothes fit me best.

And he didn't really know where he was going, but he did know he was going somewhere, because you really have to go somewhere, don't you?

everything isn't everything

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Never explain what you do. It speaks for itself. You only muddle it by talking about it.