They told me the sky changed colors every time you looked up. They said you could touch the stars if you stood on your toes and reached real high. They told me the world was round and green and it spun and spun and spun.
They were wrong.
The sky is blood-thirsty and tells me to stay away. The stars are rude, indifferent and unreachable And the world doesn't spin; it rocks back and forth and back and forth; until, I tip over the edge.