Sunday Morning

Do not try to be mean

It is the kindness that drags her in

9.30 in the morning
And that yellow bus is coming

He is starting to play with his guitar

And she is pretending to be his senorita

He is polishing his boot

While she is playing with the flute

He is busy making breakfast in the kitchen, preparing for the bread toast

Meanwhile she is busy lazying around playing puppets with her toes

Trying to be funny with her funny face and he is not even looking

Trying so hard to impress him by walking upside down

But all he said was "Ooh" followed by a big O yawn

The lavender smell of happiness

The sky splashes, pouring roses to her backyard

Lalala she is flying

Lalala she is jumping

And the bugs are smiling

She doesn't really care what the world says

With him lingering around, it doesn't matter anyway