In the abandon antique shop on the corner Swell Street, there’s me. A sad ballerina doll, with the record, Daisy Bell, playing when the wind seems to press my buttons.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!” I want to know why I’m still here! Why me of all dolls, alone spinning to Daisy Bell. World, give me your answer! DO!

I live on Swell Street yet nothing is swell!

I can’t keep living like this, in this stuffy box with no one to take me home! I’m all alone on the corner of Swell Street! I see all the people outside and I see the dumb worker who sits on his phone. I want to let go, say goodbye to this place, I want to go home. But I have no home.

Home is a place of love, but no one loves me here! Home is where the family is, but family, I have none. I’m a sad ballerina spinning to Daisy Bell, but I WANT TO BE LOVED, I WANT A HOME!

I live on Swell Street yet nothing is swell!

But all I can do is spin on the shelf in this stuffy old box, and wished to be loved.

“Daisy, Daisy. Give me your answer. Do.”