No longer am I a child with
Little tiny hands
Nor am I an adult
That never understands.
I am not a baby that cries
All through the night
Nor am I a lady
That's nice and polite
No longer do I play with
My doll with no head.
But nor do I want to take
My bear off my bed
I no longer dream of faries and toys
I now dream of school and gorgeous boys
I guess someday my
Thought will change
And all my points of view rearrange
No longer will I want my
Bear on my bed
I will have a man there,
To share with me instead
No longer will I dream of
School and boys
I will just dream of other
Fears and joys
Like going from a bootle to a cup
I guess you can call this growing up.