Climb upon the roof and peek Pantone cape around my neck Running fast, your shoes come off Nothing is left and nothing is lost walking down the blue lead fences wash your hands and paints come off It feels good to be young little me will start a storm and people in a park
Throwing air and throwing rocks Sharpened boards and filling ponds An eight year old having fun Let's organize the weaker ones With enough wind, I can fly Call them up and say goodbye wash your hands and paints come off It feels good to be young little me will start a storm and people in a park