Oh my baby, my little one How romantic it could be To climb in the sky Walking on a stair of stars that shining blue
I build a hamac of clouds Between the south and the north of the halfmoon And I love you again and again And again and again
I hang my head like a snowflake man in a burning sun Because of my own ghost I'm really dead this time I'm dead like the corpse in their six feet under graves
How romantic it could be To climb in the sky In a hamac made of clouds In a hamac made of clouds Hamac made of clouds My little one Yes a hamac made of clouds My baby my little one My baby my little A hamac made of clouds My little one