“Maybe I’m broken,” I say to myself

Then I shake my head and hop off the shelf

I walk the floors and walls of my house

“There’s no way I’m broken,” I tell to a mouse

I lay on my door and I think it all out

“I’m not broken!” I get up and shout

I walk outside and run down the trees

“Broken? No.” I whisper to the bees

Then I fly on a bus to go buy a hat

“I’m perfectly fixed,” I sing to a cat

I get to the town and turn all about

I look in the shops and start to doubt

“I can’t find a hat as fixed as I.”

I sit on a light and start to cry

A group of girls gathers behind

They laugh at me and a hat they go find

They race back from a place on the shore

They hand me a hat that I hold on the floor

“But this isn’t fixed,” I tell one girl

“It’s broken like you,” then away they twirl

Then I bus my way home on a bright bike

And I throw down the hat that I do not like

“I’m not even broken!” I yell at a wall

I get ready for bed and asleep I fall

Then that night as I lay in my bed

Dreams of sock gnomes swirled in my head

I wake with a start and grab the hat

“Maybe I’m broken,” I leave it at that