Voices from the well Sing the latest news. The river lost the race, Steps were rolling down the stairway. The ancient man above just Can?t make up his
The beautiful Elisabeth, Dachs by her feet and spirits rising high. A falcon and the whitest dove, With St. Martin?s luck And a taste for courtly love
is the first of May, And, for once, I feel quite okay. Try to pinch me if you dare, But this time I?m not going anywhere. May Day is rioting in the streets
eventually, Not quite sure of where I was; Still in Mexico of course. I got out of bed, Like an eavesdropper Lodging in this place, An unfamiliar face, A new day
Sleepwalkers standing On marshy ground; They won?t fall if you don?t wake them up. The icicles on the old jugde?s beard, Won?t tell him what he?s guilty
A lucky charm made of wind is all I have; A jungle juice to shake my blood Is what I need I cried for the wolf that fed Remus and Romulus, 4/9 476 ?
I dropped a few shells on my way Far is the dune of the ruby sand, Where I would sit And watch the time stopping by. I crossed a village made of ice,
By the time he left the city, Through restless streets Already led astray, A promise faded north-side of the bridge; All these forgotten figures Carried
raindrops, Both thinking a bit too loud Of the Outland Road. I guess fate was just winking. The hopscotch on the sidewalk Had no sky. We picked the same card that day
was right on time, Windy days on a cliff. They were waiting by the shore, Frozen figures in the dark. I?m a thousand miles away From that old Midsummer Day
My trumpets are down The wind callously composed The guitar is gone and the rest of the band transposed. But i stick to single notes And things i understand
Spin and spin Twirl and twist, And cocoon. Motionless In comfy clothes, We dreamed; Browsed away in oceanic sentiments, We?d fly away, passing every
