I know, somewhere, they grow pink grass
I just haven't found the place yet
The sun shines purple, the flowers are blue
And the air tastes like mandarin oranges
The people that live there, a happy few
Climb carrots and plant mountains to harvest
They snack all day long on sing-along-songs
To the gleam of the buttermilk moon
I anxiously wait and anticipate
The day that I finally see
A pink blade of grass, sagaciously masked
By a world that appears to be
Green
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