Fly high above the clouds On the wings of a dream I hear your whisper loud Or so it seems
Down in the shadow land Where the sun never beams I touch your slender hand Or so it seems
It seems as though the world is such a place Where we will have to treasure every trace of grace we find Behind the walls below the ceiling And it's all inclined to give me such a bad, bad feeling
Run through the meadow land Through the fast-flowing streams I feel you near at hand Or so it seems
