My mama tiptoes around in hushed movements, desperate to get me to fly off to dreamland. But I don't go just yet. I want to be a part of the goingson. I cry, baby, cry. I hear my mama sigh. But I realized that after we rock out to one whole album of, say, Guns n' Roses or 4 Non Blondes, that's when I pass out. Maybe because those were my bestfriends during my 9 month swim inside mama's womb. All the familiarity makes me go back to my rocking zone that was her uterus. Well, it could be that, or I'm just a natural born rockstar. See my sideburns? I've already got a little bit of Elvis in me. Now, I say to my mama, "Thank you! Thank you very much!
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