Sitting under an orange tree, the father, his big fish and me Now he could tell a tale or two with his scales so silver blue The violins are playing some old forgotten song
The clouds of silver purple grey they go pick up my dreams and wash them all away They're telling stories everyday and then from town to town, they go there separate ways
The shoes where hanging in that tree, close to a big old mountain. And in the end he really met his father's friend there in the fountain. The violins are playing a tune I know
The clouds of silver purple grey they go pick up my dreams and wash them all away They're telling stories everyday and then from town to town, they go there separate ways
The clouds of silver purple grey they go pick up my dreams and wash them all away They're telling stories everyday and then from town to town, they go there separate ways
And in the end he really met his father's friend there in the fountainTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
