| Paper planes and paper cuts | |
| People living in paper huts | |
| They hope will be strong enough to stand up | |
| Some are plain and some are rich | |
| Most in the middle, but they're used to it | |
| Everybody knows when they're living on the line | |
| Flags they're holding up | |
| People going "stop" but it's not enough | |
| Everybody waiting for a place to stop and stand on | |
| Ships keep sailing from dock to dock | |
| Time keeps passing from clock to clock | |
| Everybody knows when they're waiting on the line | |
| Don't cry, tomorrow's another day | |
| Another day to build our paper planes and fly | |
| The light is green but we gotta stop | |
| Gotta start at the bottom til' we get to the top | |
| But when we fall down there's nothing left to land on | |
| Well, don't you know, even in the snow | |
| there's beauty made of crystals | |
| But snow still falls, falls on the line | |
| Follow me, I got the key to the lock | |
| of the big black door at the paper shop | |
| Where we can build our planes by light of candles | |
| But the fire spread across the floor | |
| Leapt from the curtains, burned down the wall | |
| There's always flames, flames on the line | |
| Don't cry, tomorrow's another day | |
| Another day to build our paper planes and fly | |
| Please dear, don't cry, tomorrow's another day | |
| Another day to build our paper planes and fly |
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