Should I give up on the miracle?
Should I call the glass eternally half-full?
I’ve got no expectations but I can’t help but dream
Drinking whey and fantasizing cream
Like anybody ever really listened
All the shiny little tokens that glistened
Didn’t mean much to the tide of gray
but hell it was enough to keep the hounds at bay
I’ll strike the last stroke like a vector plotter
I won’t be making water wine or walking on water
My boring everyday miracle is simply that
I’ll pull another goddamn rabbit from this beat-up hat