The Island of Misfit Toys

A song based on the classic Rudolph movie (The one with the singing snowman).

The Island of Misfit Toys. 

Pull the string on the doll, go ahead. 

She won't talk funny, she'll just play dead. 

The mascara seems a little too thick. 

She's turning green, perhaps she's sick?

Old Charlie won't be having his night. 

No one will be frozen with fright. 

How can they be when his name's not Jack?

He pulled the trigger, he won't be coming back. 

We're so high, on the loneliness inside,

and we're haunted by, this great divide. 

Between the place where the children the play,

and it comes to one more day

of one more tomorrow of being on the shelf. 

Watching while they pick everyone else. 

We grow up as lost girls and boys, 

here on the Island of Misfit Toys. 

The monsters are out tonight,

with painted lips and pretty eyes. 

Wooed by the muscles and the might

of the living Frankensteins. 

We're so high....(repeat refrain) 

There comes a light from the misfit king himself:

Red and bright to lead us off this shelf 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed