And you danced with your parents beneath the earths crust, and you danced your way up through the cracks and mess they made.
You danced upon the rubble, and now you dance upon me.
When will little girls learn to not play in the world's wreckage?
It would be so easy to slip between the cracks and quake it all.
How much higher will you go?
Can I come dance with you on the clouds?