I used to be the kind of man or woman
Who'd find magic on the ground,
As though the secret to serious joy
was a thing left lying around.
I’d pull it from library books
their web pages ripped and worn,
And swore which i could see it
from the air in advance of a storm.
In case you’re wary to believing
I’m no stranger to distrust,
Again then all I found in library textbooks
was the smell of moths and dust.
And Irrespective of my just about every kiss guarantee
that every rainbow holds a little something gold.
That no one born in heritage
as ever been silent Daring.
Until finally I told them via my smile
that kiss believing is the key.
You can't adjust how the earth appears
right until you alter how people see.