Poor Michael

He lived inside a Coca Cola can
Only coming out every little once in a while
Or maybe just peering out of the opening
To see the white world outside
Then scurry back into the darkness,
His Coke can was his mansion
Where he kept his collection of antique toys
Little spinning tops constantly spinning
Metal cars with wind up keys
Puppets that dance backwards
Mickey Mouse gloves with the fingers worn out,
Finally they came and took everything away
Leaving nothing but a trail of aluminum cans
For Poor Michael to run into and hide
From the white world outside
Unable to find his red and white mansion
In a black and white world.