Winds come whistle
howl across the vista
of the imagination
sprinkled dreams of
starlike qualities
tender mercies
lost inside a vision
that was laying on an empty seat
in some coach or another
travelling to another town
that no ones ever been to
or ever will again
changing as it does
with every shifting grain of sand
scattered by the breeze
and if a tear should wake the dead
and grant them dreams anew
then maybe we'll dance again
maybe me and you...
