Thinking of nothing, raking the garden,
Lost in a world of my own little thought.
I hear you calling... "Sorry dear, pardon?"
"What did you do with the things that we bought?"
The child's out playing football with his dad,
And never wants the game to ever end.
Do you remember childhood that you had?
Just try to think of messages we send.
The children grow a little at a time,
Developing in stages as they go.
They change from something pure and so sublime,
To something filled with worries and with woe.
I still don't know why people have to breed,
Must be some sort of deep ancestral need.
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