"Imaginary Friend"

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