My Bed is an Air Balloon
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When night falls my bed is an air balloon. I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon. I float above treetops where fluttertufts are sleepingAnd flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping;Ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glass,A floog with her velvet nose bent to the grass.
My Bed is an Air Balloon