It's tricky when you feel someone has done something on your behalf
It's slippery when your sense of justice murmurs underneath and is asking you,

How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?

With a palm full of stars
I throw them like dice, repeatedly
On the table, repeatedly
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table, repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears.

How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
And did you hear, how am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?

A fit memory.

See also:
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El Pres!dente Old Times Lyrics