The floating of clouds, enchanting and slow,
Is the sweetest thing that life could make me
And with warm hands in my pockets,
I suddenly remember
I'm trying to see something in them
And asking myself:
Is it just a stock phrase
Or does the last to finish win the race?
And with warm hands in my pockets,
I suddenly remember all the times I've seen you laughing
And there was not enough rain to quench my thirst
I've some good stories to tell,
And I show my silver hair like a peacock's tail
And with warm hands in my pockets,
I suddenly remember all the times I've seen you laughing
And there was not enough rain to quench my thirst