She always smelled of orange peels
To keep the bugs away
And she never really liked this house
Inside a tent she’d stay
Her brain it was a jukebox
Filled with assorted memories
Tiny tunes of her childhood enemies
This songs been playing for centuries
I\'m afraid It seems
I’m not really sure what you mean
When you say she was never there
Her and her golden brown hair
The wings of ladybugs on her boots
A grand ole graceless graveyard
She was a bee charmer
A sniper and a flower farmer
She held the world on the tip of her nose
And she decided which way the wind blows
But happy days will always end
My God I miss my imaginary friend