There Is A Place Where The Sidewalk

My Skin Is Kind Of Sort Of Brownish Pinkish Yellowish White. My Eyes Are Greyish Blueish Green, But I'm Told They Look Orange In The Night. My Hair Is Reddish Blondish Brown, But Its Silver When Its Wet, And All The Colors I Am Inside Have Not Been Invented Yet.

I Asked The Zebra, Are You Black With White Stripes? Or White With Black Stripes? And The Zebra Asked Me, Are You Good With Bad Habits? Or Are You Bad With Good Habits?

Once I Spoke The Language Of The Flowers,once I Undrestand Each Word The Caterpillar Said,once I Smiled In Secret At The Gossip Of The Starlings.

Don't Be Dependent On Anyone Else. I Want To Go Everywhere, Look At, And Listen To Everything. You Can Go Crazy With Some Of The Wonderful Stuff There Is In Life.

There Is A Place Where The Sidewalk Ends, And Before The Street Begins, And There The Grass Grows Soft And White, And There The Sun Burns Crimson Bright, And There The Moon-bird Rests From His Flight To Cool In The Peppermint Wind.