"[I]f an American jumps out of an airplane, you can't sell him a parachute until after he hits the ground.

I know,
someday I might be looking around, trying to find some purpose.
Well, purpose can’t be that hard to find, as long as I’ve got the wind, the wind and your love to carry me.

Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me without making me try?...
I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky, I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like.
Gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more..