it was an august morning when i was told,
'its time to go'
and as i turned to you, you smiled at me...
how could i say no?
oh to fill the head
with wistful dreams and wishful air
then came the bells that sang
come to thee thy fancies have...ave...

ay... we cross a bridge

set beyond the endless hills
from those who claimed they knew
was a secret spring of joy
that bubbled, brooked and flow...oh...owed...
oh to smell the streams
of nectarine;
fair maiden hair
only you, this feeling remains
that's passed beyond and now never had...add...

come to touch the dreams of old
before they turn to stone
everything we know and see
will all be set in stone..own...own...
oh to fly away
like travellers of both time and space
only the feeling remains
in celebration of a dream.

ay... we pass a crossroad

and the rains of spain, fell mainly on the plain...
yes the rains of spain, fell mainly on the plains...

(thus walked on the man of la mancha, seeking chariots! gold! secrets! fire! he came across the mighty atlas mountains, and there on, the story is told, what happened no one now knows)