I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows,
I believe that someone in the great somewhere, hears every word,
every time I hear a new born baby cry or touch a leaf or see the sky ......
then I know WHY I BELIEVE..
The art of living does not consist
in preserving and clinging
to a particular mood of happiness,
but in allowing happiness
to change its form without
being disappointed by the change;
for happiness, like a child,
must be allowed to grow up.
Running thru Da Monsoon
Beyond Da World
Where Da Rain Wont Hurt
Fightin Da Storm
Into Da blue
n'' When I Lose Myself I Think Of You
Together we''ll be runnin Sumwhere New Thru Da Monsoon
