No Past Land
If my hands weren't thereLike I saw in the streamOf the drawings been madeOn a full colour screenIf they weren't to be foundThen what else could I be
If your hands weren't thereLike I saw in my dreamsAnd the poets we madeHad all gone, disappearedThen what elseThen what else could I be
If your hands and my handsStrolled together aroundIf they were to make friendsWe'd be possibly up
To escape from this worldFrom this no past land
If I looked in the windowsWhile walking pass throughIf I stared at the willowsWith my seven black truthsIf my eyes were to seeWhat belongs to your mind
If you'd like, keep perceivingWhat lies on my backAnd your eyes will shineThrough the glass of my wineAnd the willows, the windowsThe pillows, and your mouth
If your hands and my handsStrolled together aroundIf they were to make friendsWe'd be possibly up
To escape from this worldFrom this no past land