Hollow lane, blooming stars
Crystalline line of horizon
Echoed sounds coming from space
There are milky roads
Ropes to climb up to the top of
Curly clouds rolling gently
And it isn't late to whistle a new tune
And it isn't late to paint doors and white rooms
Oh, I've singable dreams
Oh, I've crumbs of some petty bright days
Hollow lane, blooming stars
Crystalline line of horizon
Echoed sounds coming from space
And it isn't late to whistle a new tune
And it isn't late to paint doors and white rooms
Oh, I've singable dreams
Oh, I've crumbs of bright days
And it isn't late to whistle a new tune
And it isn't late to paint doors and white rooms
Oh, I've singable dreams
Oh, I've crumbs of some petty bright day

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN