once there was a girl
who seemed to love blank pages
she used to pick each of them
and scribble letters for ages

she could wonder out for hours
and scribble one hundred each time
she could draw one hundred pages
and never would seem to be fine

one fine, close to the birth_day, actually she
did asked: "what evil did i, i do not see
what rhymes, what fault, what me"
"tomorrow" i said "you'll see,
the scribble girl you seem to be"

(a partir de tim burton)