I was the type of individual
Who'd find magic on the bottom,
As though the secret to authentic Pleasure
was a little something still left lying close to.
I’d pull it from library publications
their pages ripped and worn,
And swore that I could see it
inside the air in advance of a storm.
When you’re wary to believing
I’m no stranger to distrust,
Back then all I located in library guides
was the smell of moths and mud.
And Even with my each individual promise
that each rainbow holds one thing gold.
That not a soul born in record
as ever kiss been tranquil Daring.
Until eventually I explained to them via my smile
that believing is the key.
You can not alter how the world appears to be
until eventually you alter how people see.