Get a star
From Create Your Own Story
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| - | McBean | + | McBean reclined in his seat, his pockets now full, |
| - | Into | + | Into spiraling chaos there is a strong pull. |
| - | Will you pay | + | Will you pay to continue changing your star? |
| - | To follow the crowd, or is this too far? | + | To follow the crowd, or is this really too far? |
| - | To | + | To cycle through stars, no real meaning of whats upon thars? |
| - | Or | + | Or go back to the life that left all these scars? |
[[keep going through on/off machines]] | [[keep going through on/off machines]] | ||
Current revision as of 08:05, 4 May 2010
So they clambered inside. Then the big machine roared
And it klonked. And it bonked. An it jerked. And it berked
And it bopped them about. But the thing really worked!
Then they yelled at the ones who had stars at the start,
"We're exactly like you! You can't tell us apart.
We're all just the same, now you snooty old smarties!
And now we can go to your frankfurter parties."
"Good grief!" groaned the ones who had starts at the first.
"We're still the best Sneetches and they are the worst.
But, now how in the world will we know," they all frowned,
"If which kind is what, or the other way round?"
Then up came McBean with a very sly wink
And he said, "Things are not quite as bad as you think.
So you don't know who's who. That is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends. Do you know what I'll do?
I'll make you, again, the best Sneetches on beaches
And all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches."
And they hopped right on in, those silly Sneetches with stars
Around the machine till they had none upon thars.
Then, of course, those with stars all got frightfully mad.
To be wearing a star now was frightfully bad.
Then of course, old Sylvester McMonkey McBean
Invited them into his Star-Off Machine.
All the rest of the day on those wild screaming beaches,
The fix it up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches.
Off again! On again!
In again! Out again!
Through the machines they raced round and about again,
Changing their stars every minute or two.
They kept paying money. They kept running through.
McBean reclined in his seat, his pockets now full,
Into spiraling chaos there is a strong pull.
Will you pay to continue changing your star?
To follow the crowd, or is this really too far?
To cycle through stars, no real meaning of whats upon thars?
Or go back to the life that left all these scars?
