I woke up this morning
with my Mr. Bear,
and I told my mom
that there's an angel
laying on my bed.

“Mommy, mommy!
She needs our help, she's bleeding!”
“It's okay honey-baby. It's okay!
It's alright my Claire.
Mommy is here.
It's all over, okay?
It was just a nightmare.”

She held me tight
in her arms
but she wouldn't listen
to my explanation:
how I got my bed all dirty
and how did I get blood on it.

I didn't go to school that day,
thanks to her.
I was in the hospital;
doctors and nurses were
checking here and there,
all around me.

Policemen and the neighbors
kept asking weird questions,
they all want to know
what in the Sesame Street happened;
and I just wanted to go home
and see if she's still there
and see if she's still okay.