Hi! We're "The Impossibles" from Austin, Texas
I hold the future in my fingertips
My destination races across her lips
It's no surprise, it's just what it predicts
My fate is sealed shut by the dice it picks
So I shake my magic eight ball (whoa, whoa, oh)
And I pose an inquiry (inquiry)
And my future begins to surface (whoa, ho, oh)
"Outlook not so good," "Most likely not," "My sources say no!"
It is without a doubt, hard to figure out, this magic ball
What gives it its mojo powers and makes it so mystical?
Is it the faith of over a million kids who find it believable?
Or is it a bunch of four shitty dice trapped in a black plastic ball?
So I shake my magic eight ball (whoa, whoa, oh)
And I pose an inquiry (inquiry)
And my future begins to surface (whoa, whoa, oh)
"Outlook not so good," "Most likely not," "My sources say no!"
So I shake my magic eight ball (whoa, whoa, oh)
And I pose an inquiry (inquiry)
And my future begins to surface (whoa, whoa, oh)
"Outlook not so good," "Most likely not," "My sources say no!"