Twisted metal and shapeless form;
From thou appendages do we adorn.
Downward tumble and quickening pace;
Land on your feet, not on your face.
Soaring seats and skyward bound;
Glide through the air, high above the ground.
One flies up and one falls down;
From equal sides comes a laughing sound.
Squeaking rubber and players short and tall;
Miss your shot and the ball will fall.
Wooden frame and a rocking spring;
This mighty steed can do anything.
I come back to the playground of my youth.
I return to the plastic utopia.