In gray foreign square
Unknown sounds, people talk
And unknown man appear
And hold out his hands to up
Already I've been sleeping too long
Already I've been too far, and too long
He is traveler or clown or poet anyway
He'll take me somewhere a place over misty gate
Already the sun goes down to the night
Already birds fly away to lower sky
Already I've been sleeping too long
Already I've been too far, and too long
An golden waves,
The colors of the breeze
And feather dreams,
These are what we talked
