What I tell you three times is true

I wish the moths would stop bringing me mail and that the grass wouldn't talk back to the window washers. It's been a long and strenuous day and nobody needs a pelican rebellion. I've got gold dust on my hands and a star in my trunk and I think that's just dandy-fine. The road reads blue and the sky is dark and preening. Snowflakes ain't got nothing on the glitter coming down from the clouds.