Oh my baby my little one. How romantic it could be To climb the sky, walkin'on a stair of stars, that shining Blue.
And build a hamak of clouds between the south and the north of the halfmoon And I love you again, again, again, again
I hang my head like a snowflake-man in a burning sun Because I'm my own ghost I'm really dead, this time. I'm dead like the corpse in cold, cold graves
How romantic it could be to climb the sky in a hamak made of clouds. А hammock made of clouds.
Oh, hamak made of clouds My little one Yes, a hamak made of clouds To climb the sky А hamak made of clouds hamak made of clouds My little one