And the water below gives a gift to the sky And the clouds give back every time they cry And make the grass grow green beneath my toes. - Jack Johnson

Why don't the newscasters cry when they read about people who die?
At least they could be decent enough to put just a tear in their eyes.

Here comes another one, just like the other one
Looking at himself but wishing he was someone else
Because the posters on the wall they don't look like him
And so he ties it up he tucks it in, he pulls it back and gives a grin
Laughing at himself because he knows he ain't loved at all
He knows he ain't loved at all

Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing the fool?