Walking down the mountain
I'm walking down the hill
My imagination
Got a space to spill
And the new horizon mystic mist flows
Like a big old river
Watch it as it flows
In the farthest corner
There is an old staircase
I can walk up and down
Straight into that mess
And reprojecting now it's blooming time
And then harvest of sweet, sweet wine
All day long playing naked in the sun