My new pink pants make me want to do all sorts of things.
Like peel wallpaper and carve my name in furniture.
Or eat plumbs and pick flowers from my neighbor's yard
without asking or feeling guilty.
Maybe tomorrow I will make friends with someone just
because they have a trampoline and a cotton-candy machine.
If you see me wearing my pink pants, run.
I'll only get you into some sort of trouble.