Fiction

Hello
I was getting ready to call you
I just worry about, you know
How you're doing, what you're feeling, thinking, all that stuff
Because you're my baby and I love you

A stolen storybook is tucked beneath my bed
My grandma read me that to sleep
And the things I've loved, I'm allowed to keep

Does the library know
That I lied when I came home
They don't know the secrets that I do
That my grandma lives in the pages too

I'll never let her go
So I'll keep it on my shelf
Someday, I'll read it by myself

Should I tell my children that my stories are all fiction

Someday when I am old
I'll tell my fishing tales.
They'll write them down and bind them up,
And I'll sell my stories with a dash of dust

And I'll always think of you
I may never pay my dues
If my prayers never do come true
Should I tell my children that my stories are all fiction

My prayers never do come true
Should I tell my children that my stories are all fiction
Should I tell my children that my stories are all fiction

We read it and we read it and we read it
You didn't want to take it back to the library