of what's left to come.. 
nothing's fine, nothing's fair, nothing's in the air.. 
what's with all the fairytales? 
the magic beans and wicked spells, go find your mantra there..
in a little love song,
for the one you're calling out for
with open arms ever hopeful
that it's all over

and a little water
for all your sons and daughters, 
for the ones with all the laughter
i can't understand.. we didn't jump, 
weren't pushed but somehow landed here.. 
and/i'm all grown up now, 
full of air but at least i had myself a fighting chance