The groovy little snail,
with her slimy little trail.
Tells a tale of where she's been,
you might have seen her now an then.
In our buildings down the hall,
in our crowded shopping malls.
With her tiny bubble butt,
and her life all in a rut.
You see, her mind's so on the go,
what she thinks nobody knows.
How elusive she can be,
as she brings us to our knees.
Through the pain and all the tears,
as the months turn into years.
On that slimy little trail, she will surely fail.
As she blaze's her rainbow stain behind her.
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