Of shoes, of Ships, and Ceiling wax, Of Cabbages and Kings

I have a genuine lack of goal..he asked me last night if I had a goal, a dream.
I haven't, never have, never been interested in something in particular.
And then I sounded just like him.
Like cleaning off that old mirror and peering in, deep into the rabbit hole.

Change places!

That grin ever present, and ever green, often keeps me company when all else is gone.
I shouldn't mock your indifference, your all I have really.
But somewhere behind that mocking visage, I'm sure you want to steal all my cards.

Change Places!

Sleep evaded me.
Once again I had taken the wrong mushroom, I had shrunk and remembered all to well that in infatuations bliss the Cheshire cat couldn't see me.
(This broadcast is interrupted by my insane anger at people who pop me up with nothing to say.)
I sported a cold sweat.

Change Places!

I made the March Hare cry, if I wasn't so irked I'd be quite sorry, and somewhere under all that tea I think I might be sorry.
He keeps looking for scrips, they vote that I tell a story.
All he wants is company,I can see by his dipping ears.
But I can't possibly drink one more cup of tea.

Change Places!

Hatter with his own personal friend Time, waists my days away and his, in remembrances and riddles we can't answer.
Living just to look forward to things, loving ourselves, and irritating the mouse.
I just wish he wouldn't yell so much
Change Places!