You hide your children from me,

Assuming I belong to China,

Or maybe Russia,

The big, bad commies.

That’s what you assume.

Nobody knows why I hover in the New England sky,

High above your average suburbia,

But you are scared of me

Just because you can’t see the face behind me,

But it must be someone hostile.

That’s what you assume.

I don’t know why I’m up here either,

But you are terrified that I might have my own free will

And the apocalypse must be coming.

I _must _be a monster.

Because that’s what you assume.