They lived in a bubble A thin, floating sphere So clear, so defined It glittered in the sunlight They thought it so pretty They never wanted to leave But grew envious Of the people who lived outside “Why, why,” They cried “Why do they get to smell The evening flowers?” “Why, why,” They cried “Why do they get to roll Down dew-wet hills?” They could’ve left whenever they wished But they loved their bubble so For the rest of their existence, they complained; They moaned And have never stopped since