The moon she rides the tattered storm
on a ragged gypsy journey
The snow lies on the mountain
like a cloak upon a kingMy dreams go tumbling with the dust
out across the valley
Low above the river
low above the seaLife’s a sparrow lost at sea
in dark of night with far to go
Dreams are ships that sail away
and we are only cargoNow the sea has always sung to me
but I have never ever heeded
I am born a farmer, raised the same
married to the landBut sometimes I will lie at night
while she is softly sleeping
Far away I hear the song
the sea sings to the sandNow Adam’s prize was open eyes
his sentence was to see
so day by day he’s worn away
against realitySo gypsies dream of being king
kings of being free
A sailor longs to till the land
the farmer sets to seaAnd the sea will love the land all night
like a woman loves her lover
The wind will race along the beach
and make the sea cliffs ringI will wake and start to dream again
the dream I dream forever
Of the ships I’ll never sail
the songs I’ll never sing