It's not about what you eat, it's not about what you wear.

It doesn't really matter whether you're a peach or a pear.

When the star you see blinks at me,

it died years ago but its ghost is still seen.

On the crystal cold days when your breath turns to smoke,

something secret seen to all,

sometime then I will fall.

Caressed by the sand man wrapping me with drowsiness,

a swinging between dreams and reality is where i ponder

The Floatability Of Fruit...