I want to have my name inscribed
Between the cracks in the bark of trees;
I want my words to be the low hum
Playing everyone's eardrums.
My last lullaby will be a roar of
'Thank you's and 'We love you's.
And I'll close that curtain when
My stories are written in ink
And what I've made is clay, in the hands
Of every person that ever lived.
When I grow up I want to change
Your world. And in doing so, I'll change mine too.