If I were a Sprite (Not the canned soda kind)
If I were a Sprite,
I would be super spastic.
I would not sit still; I’d probably play ill,
If you ever wanted anything but spastic.
I would wake up out of daisies,
And I’d throw away the keys,
I burst right out of zinnias,
And I’d [completely] forget which ones were free.
I’d probably eat whatever I want,
Because French fries grow on trees,
I’d definitely admonish the stupid frogs,
Thumbelina’s never seen the likes of me.
I’d barf up rainbow farts and sing a hippy dippy song,
Wait a second—no—good luck with that;
I won’t be the kind of silly Sprite,
Who is a rabbit to your hat.
I’d prank people and draw polka dots on their faces,
Mercy will wash off,
I’d forget the other lazy Sprites,
Who would rather get us lost.
If I have free r[a]in of the forests,
Well then, my wings are fast,
I’d simmer here, buzz past there,
And you can come in last.
If I could grow wings and fly,
I’d be a messenger if that’s what it takes,
I would poke you, prod you, scream in your ear;
You’d get the message, for goodness sake.
I would light a fire under your nose,
And dance across your eyes,
I’d leave the dust from my slipper boots,
To illuminate the lies.
You would look right look left look up and down,
And see me always again,
Only this time when you looked on me,
You’d see that we were friends.