The World

This poem is sort of a fun play on words told from an extraterrestrial's point of view.

The world's a place where
money talks, feet smell, noses run.
People bite odd things:
bullets, dust, and their tongues.
Every family has its on black sheep.
Mountains change to molehills.
Hearts occasionally leap to throats.
What an interesting place;
I'll surely have to visit soon.