A Ramble through Smilie Land

We were born of sheep's dreams,
we were born of grass.
Neither of us is quite there
we are nought but dreams and gas.

So it hardly matters that I've killed you,
Chopped you up for stew and pie.
Because you my dear don't exist
Nor in point of fact do I.

Cackle! Hiss! Bubble and boil!
Umdiddle dee and umdiddle DIE!

We are characters in someone's brain
though I am not quite certain who.
But all that matters is-
It doesn't matter what I do!

Kill or steal, rob or lie,
if I don't exist can I die?

Tell yourself that you are real,
you will find that you are not
For we are all but fairy tales
From that green sheep that dreams a lot.

31/8/2007