Big Red Dogs and Nodding Tape Recorders

Let's live somewhere where the sun is always out, but the moon never stops crying,
That way, we'll always appreciate who we are as opposed to who everyone thinks we are.
Where the stars have the best of intentions,
Knowing nothing of how jealous they make us in the way they conform to dark matter's standards,
But still shine in their own way.

Let's live somewhere where the right pair of sunglasses can show you the beauty in everything.
'A walk in the park' means how your day went,
And where raindrops are the therapists, and the clouds are the nodding tape recorders.

Let's move out of this one horse town, to a place where memories can be taped to the ceiling,
That way they can fade with the dignity of a photograph; Yellowed ink and tired corners.
Where 'U' and 'I' aren't so far away, and we only have to look around to feel close to something bigger than ourselves.

[Hey, let's move out to my imagination,
So we never have to dream of a place so far fetched,
Even Clifford The Big Red Dog couldn't bring it back to us.]