Call the man on a Sunday morning ball
With your cell phone, barely standing tall.
Tell the waiter what time it is on earth
In the time zone where your mind gives birth.
Count the sandwiches that hop the fence
When you sleep with wishes that are so dense.
Quiet down, don't feel so tense
Don't let a tiny trouble feel immense.
Put your worries in a bag so small
That they make happiness appear more tall
Like the Eiffel tower underneath the sky
You can take a trip to the top that is very high.
Put your worries in the trash, please
I don't want you week in the knees
As if you could be blown away by any breeze
You're stronger than the fleas
And you know your soul is the key.
