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Vanilla Skies and Cerulean Moons
What if, what if, the sky wasn't blue?
If I wasn't me, and you weren't you?
If the sky was vanilla,
And the mountains were gold,
And the elders were young,
And the youngers were old?
If the moon was a striking shade of blue,
And I wasn't me, and you weren't you,
Then it wouldn't be right, though it might be nice,
For the cerulean moon to rise over the ice,
The lavender ice in the marmalade sea,
If you weren't you, and I wasn't me.
The forest green fishes would sing underground,
As the aquamarine birds swim round and round,
It would be quite a sight to see,
Like if you weren't you, and I wasn't me.
If reading a book meant eating a cake,
And sitting alone meant never a break,
Things wouldn't go as they normally do,
If I wasn't me, and you weren't you.
But the sky is still a bright, bright blue,
And I am me, and you are you,
And the moon is a pale and gentle white,
And everything is quite alright.