It's like we're buckets and waterfalls
But every bucket has a hole
And then you say, have you found a plug yet?
It doesn't have to be perfect but
You have the power over your hole
Your plug is yours to control
Remember your plugged is your power
And your waterfall, this nourishing bliss
Can be given wisely or poured amiss
So where does that sacred water go?
Does it spill over, or hit the rocks down below?
And tell me how you know