I dream of lands far away

A land that I will visit someday

With magic socks that shout my name

Battling socks that kill, and maim

Sockland is where I must go

How I'll get there I don't know

But when I get there I will see

That there are sock friends, waiting for me

We will skip and jump along the flowers

We could do it for days, or just maybe hours

But there is one thing that I'm not sure

Are their intentions really pure?

I look around and see the battles

But I couldn't just run away, like a boy who tattles

So I sit here and wait my turn

"You be ready socks! Get ready to burn!"

It is over the task is done

"Look at that I actually won"

My favorite sockland is no more

That's what happens when there is war.