She ruined my life and all she can think about is wearing khaki. "They make you wear khaki jumpsuits," Mom says. "I look hideous in khaki." Mom, Dad, and I are parked in front of the Federal ... [+]
She sells
Seashells
On the seashore
Sure, she sells these
Seashells
But does she see the shore?
Or only the shells in her sandy hands
Bleached by the sun's toothy smile
Yet colored in comparison to the pale sea
Oh did she but see the sea
Poseidon's trident would oft strike her heart.
She longed for his balmy, reposeful caress
The cool waves shaking their foamy heads
To dance
To dance
To dance
How she did wish to have seaweed for hair
Corals for eyes
And sea shells for ornate breasts
And the skin of mermen many
Draped as lowly hung skirts on slender, scarlet hips
As they
Sway
And sway
And sway
Their murmurs drumming rhythmically
In the heart of her seashells
"Dear sea shells,
Would you not whisper to me?
And tuck my soul into the shell of the sea?"