I'm rather inclined to set sail
To abandon this monotonous ring
But each attempt is doomed to fail
For I'm glued to a boomerang.

I'm wont for a world that
Rains up to the clouds,
For a winter that's hot
For a summer that chills
For a rabbit that flies
And a lark that burroughs.

If Luncy is wrong
And Peculiarities hushed
Is normalacy right?
Does the sun always rise?
Does the sun always set?
Does it never get caught in a poor fisher's net
As I see it sink lower and lower still
On the sea that is barren,
No fish and no thrill?

No, I think it's not so,
I think perhaps I am right
That the nighttime is day and the daytime is night.
I think I breathe water and drink not but air.
After all, in this world, each perception is fair.