Don't Even Get Me Started On Macy's Parade
O bright red balloons, bright red balloons! What makes you hover so fatigued? Surface rippled and misshapen; Wrinkles perched on unseen face So tired, So weary. Why reach for bitter, cruel, indifferent skies? Your tears an April rain. Your cry - ‘Will You Be Mine’. Thunder voiceless despair But the morning rush has no reply. O bright red balloons, bright red balloons! Who would leave you so...