Sitting on a beautiful hill,
I often see dreams and this is what it seems to me -
That money is not the point nor the number of women
And not the old folklore, and not the New Wave.
But we are walking blind in strange places,
And all we have is joy and fear,
Fear that we are worse than we can be,
And joy because everything is in safe hands;
And in every dream
I just cannot refuse,
And run somewhere, but when I wake up,
I hope you will be with me…
