angliterario

The world has four corners At least that's what it says In Tolkien's and some other's tales And since then The world has divided into Many more corners I'd say There's the right To some it appears as the left Which one is correct? Bloods spill and children cry And for what? To reiterate the right from the left But which is which There are as many rights As there are as many lefts Dissected into microscopic proportions One needs to invent A telescope and a microscope Combined to see what is what I am right, you are right She is right, he is right Nobody admits We could all be wrong after all

It wasn't easy I must admit I've searched far and wide For quite some time The butterflies wouldn't talk The flowers wouldn't talk Silent as a tomb the stone sure didn't talk I asked the old man with the purple beard Sitting, contemplating for a hundred No, maybe a thousand years But was answered with a resounding snore I followed the fly It was circling round the old man's head I thought maybe it'd have heard something Flying, hovering Round the old man's head I thought it was about to speak But a hopping frog swallowed the poor buzzing fly Oh how cruel life sometimes could be! The frog stopped Swallowed and stopped It swallowed again And turned a purple-green-blue color The frog suddenly started hopping Hopping to the left, and then to the right And then it hopped up and down, up and down And then turned left and right It made a weird sound as it hopped And if the echoes are right It went goo-gle-it, goo-gle-i...