The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Can't sleep. Can't breathe. Oh help.

I feel like tomorrow -- today, now, really -- is the day I must Grow Up. Bind up my hair and cover up my tattoo -- my tattoo! And hobble around in my really very elegant shoes. And smile and say oh yes and really? and do you think so, Sir?

Oh, let me fly away now.

Anyone reading this knows well what I'd rather be doing with my life...

And I don't want any of this, but I can damn well play the game with the best.

Pray I succeed or pray I fail, as you love me, gentles all.

(There I go with my iambics.)