Eight Days

eight days 'til the train whistle
strikes our ears,
like the 'ol mice
who skip up and down
the fifty five year old
main

eight days 'til the singin'
soars, the dancin'
swings you 'bout;
the want, the need,
the pleasure
to join in every direction
fun.

Eight days 'til
our cash becomes magnetic
to magical merchandise
even to dreamy
steamy churros

c'mon eight days turn
into one, then we enter into
those cheery gates into the
adorned park
and hollar out of excited lungs!