Just One Wish

In a house, on a bed, is a boy.
This boy lies awake as the sky's growing dark,
A frown on his face as he says to himself:
"What a horrible day this has been."
The walls of his bedroom are solid and white,
The room is filled with toys of all kinds,
And the bed which he lies on is soft.

In a shack, on the ground, is a boy.
This boy lies awake as the sky's growing dark,
A frown on his face as he says to himself:
"What a horrible day this has been."
The walls of his small home are falling apart,
Holes in the roof, and floor covered in dust,
And the dirt which he lies on is hard.

In a house, on a bed, is a boy.
This boy's feeling down 'cause his day had been bad.
He'd gone to school; done his chores... But after that,
He'd no time for his video games.
And that morning, he'd woken, feeling 'unwell,'
To have only cereal for breakfast - that's all!
Oh, the day really hadn't been good.

In a shack, on the ground, is a boy.
This boy's feeling down 'cause his day had been bad.
He'd worked all day, in the sun, in the sand.
Hours later, still not enough money.
And that morning, he'd woken, feeling unwell,
To have nothing for breakfast - no, nothing at all!
Oh, the day really hadn't been good.

In a house, on a bed, is a boy.
This boy has a thought as he lies on his bed,
He wants adventures; the fun not to end,
And no more of his chores or his school.
He thinks that his life is so boring; no fun,
He says to himself: "Oh, my life is so dull...
I just wish I was somebody else."

In a shack, on the ground, is a boy.
This boy has a thought as he lies on the ground,
He wants something better; he's had enough.
No more working, no hunger; just fun.
He thinks that his life is so boring; no good,
He says to himself: "Oh, my life is so dull...
I just wish I was somebody else."

In a house, on a bed, is a boy.
This boy turns his head to look through the window,
And up in the sky, he sees a large star.
It glows; it's the night's brightest spark.
At last, the boy settles beneath his blankets,
His wish in mind, as he closes his eyes,
And that bright star still clear in his head...

In a shack, on the ground, is a boy.
This boy glances up, through the holes in his roof,
And up in the sky, he sees a large star.
It glows; it's the night's brightest spark.
At last, the boy curls himself up in a ball,
His wish in mind, as he closes his eyes,
And that bright star still clear in his head...

Now, the boy from the bed in the house;
It's morning, and, waking, this boy stretches out.
Hours have passed and the sun is rising.
But... Something just doesn't seem right.
Spreading his arms at his sides, he feels 'round.
On a hard ground, he finds himself lying,
And whispers: "I'm not at home, am I?"

Now, the boy from the ground in the shack;
It's morning, and, waking, this boy stretches out.
Hours have passed and the sun is rising.
But... Something just doesn't seem right.
Spreading his arms at his sides, he feels 'round.
On a soft bed, he finds himself lying,
And whispers: "I'm not at home, am I?"

The boy from the bed in the house;
Curious, this boy raises his head to see,
Broken down walls, and a roof full of holes,
No beds, chairs or tables anywhere.
There are no toys or video games in his sight.
But outside he sees, a new world awaits;
A world of adventures and fun!

The boy from the ground in the shack;
Curious, this boy raises his head to see,
Solid, white walls; and blankets and pillows,
And all kinds of toys everywhere.
He's amazed; no dirt covers the ground,
Nothing is broken, everything's fine.
This world looks so nice; oh, such fun!"

Now, the boy from the bed in the house;
This boy, he is happy in his new world - at first.
No school, no boring and dull; just adventure.
He can do what he wants; now he's free.
At least, that's what he first thought of his new life,
Until work and hunger made him realise,
Life is not all fun and adventure.

Now, the boy from the ground in the shack
This boy, he is happy in his new world - at first.
No work, no hunger, no worry; just fun.
He has everything at his fingers.
That is, until the boy realised something;
That although he had all these luxuries,
This life felt so empty; just nothing.

So, the boy from the bed in the house;
A thought soon comes into this boy's weary mind:
'This world seemed thrilling, but now that I'm here,
This life - good and bad - is not for me.
'I see that there's much more to life than adventure.
I need to go home; this isn't my life.
I have so much to be thankful for...'

So, the boy from the ground in the shack;
A thought soon comes into this boy's weary mind:
'This world may seem grand, but now that I'm here,
This life - good and bad - is not for me.
'Although I have everything here, I have nothing.
What have I worked for, and what need I earn?
In this great world, I feel no purpose...'
...

In a house, on a bed, is a boy.
This boy comes awake as the sky's growing light,
A glint in his eyes as he smiles to himself.
And in another world, at that time...
Somewhere in a shack, on the ground, is a boy.
Who, too, comes awake as the sky grows light,
And with a glint in his eyes... he smiles.