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