I Asked The Zebra, Are You Black

If You Want To Find Out What A Writer Or A Cartoonist Really Feels, Look At His Work. That's Enough.

It Was Missing A Piece. And It Was Not Happy. So It Set Off In Search Of Its Missing Piece. And As It Rolled It Sang This Song - "oh I'm Lookin' For My Missin' Piece I'm Lookin' For My Missin' Piece Hi-dee-ho, Here I Go, Lookin' For My Missin' Piece.

Let Us Leave This Place Where The Smoke Blows Black And The Dark Street Winds And Bends. Past The Pits Where The Asphalt Flowers Grow We Shall Walk With A Walk That Is Measured And Slow, And Watch Where The Chalk-white Arrows Go To The Place Where The Sidewalk Ends.

And All The Colors I Am Inside Have Not Been Invented Yet.

So What If Nobody Came? I’ll Have All The Ice Cream And Tea, And I’ll Laugh With Myself, And I’ll Dance With Myself, And I’ll Sing, “happy Birthday To Me!