Générique de fin - Marc Shaiman

If your day’s up the spout

Well there isn’t a doubt

There’s nowhere to go but up

And if you don’t believe

Just hang on to my sleeve

For there’s nowhere to go but up

As you fly over town

It gets harder to frown

And we’ll all hit the heights

If we never look down

Let the past take a bow

The forever is now

And there’s nowhere to go but up, up!

There’s nowhere to go but up!