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It was the night before,
When all through the world,
No words, no dreams
Then one day,
A writer by a fire
Imagined all of Gaia
Took a journey into a childless heart...
A painter on the shore
Imagined all the world
Within the snowflake on his palm
A dream of poetry,
I'll tell is over
Cutting in,
Falling back in to the stars...
I am the voice of never, never land,
The innocence of dreams from every man,
I am the empty grave of Peter Pan,
A soaring kite against the blue, blue sky,
Every chimney, every moonlit sight
I am the story that will read you real,
Every memory that you hold dear
I am the journey,
I am the destination,
I am the whole mad tale
That grieves you
Away to taste the night,
Free and loose we fly!
Follow the madness,
How do you know what's real?
Imaginarium, a dream emporium!
Caress the tales
And they will read you real
A storyteller's game,
Inside he flicks the gate
The calling heart
Is a limitless chest of tales...
I am the voice of never, never land,
The innocence of dreams from every man,
I am the empty grave of Peter Pan,
A soaring kite against the blue, blue sky,
Every chimney, every moonlit sight
I am the story that will read you real,
Every memory that you hold dear
I am the voice of never, never land,
The innocence of dreams from every man,
Searching heavens for another earth...
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