We all are blessed, we all are here
We’re full of joy, we have no fear
Under our feet, God given street
At the point where all our hearts do meet

And then in ones, not twos, not threes
We count the leaves and feel the breeze
And thank God for the angel snow
And so we do-- and off we go

To get we have to give
If we try we get to live
And clouds go by
And people cry
And clouds are pink when people die

But it’s really all a gift shop
And though we’re not alone
We pick and choose and buy and trade
And decide which place is home

And it’s really a display case
Who will carry you through the rain?
Who will show you where the sun is?
Who will guide you through the pain?

Don’t you see how it’s a gift shop?
How you might end up alone?
Do you get my urgent feeling?
How I wish that I was home!

But you grow up
And it’s a gift shop
You grow up and you decide
And clouds go by
And people cry
And clouds are pink when people die