Place in your heart, that makes magic, under our toes Strip down to a bare confession, of a soul Paris France, I hear is nice. But to Holland is where
Your clothes lay by the shore where your senses were born. Now you don't think twice, about saying "I love you". And the wind hits like a hammer across
Morning sun comes and runs with everything in its hand. We constantly chase it to the end. We might get tired, we might get lost, but we'll both never
