This mailbox is mine
And this triagonal sign
That blue balloon
The month of June
They're mine, mine, mine, mine, mine
Ziggy's sweets are mine
That birdie's tweets are mine
The city streets
Both your feet
They're all emphatically mine
It all belongs to me
Everything that I see
North, south, east and west
I caress it, 'cause I possess it
I'm Stingy and it's mine
And this instrumental break is also mine
The floor and ceiling are mine
All your feelings are mine
You always knew it
That's all there is to it
It's mine, mine, mine, mine, mine
That's what I said
It's mine
_________________
According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.