I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one...
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind blow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
Doesn't each of us have a place
Where we belong?
Could be a sidewalk crack
Or a sad song.
Inside our searchings is desire
To etch a silent thought in stone
To make a tender heart known.
Everybody wants to be a hero
Or a savior of small things
I want to be a champion of evening
To forget not the beauty of the in-betweens.
Every one of us an orphan
Our bodies born from dust of the stars.
We can comfort each other in this place
I can look into your eyes
And see my own face.
Under the sun
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind blow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
Doesn't each of us have a place
Where we belong?
Could be a sidewalk crack
Or a sad song.
Inside our searchings is desire
To etch a silent thought in stone
To make a tender heart known.
Everybody wants to be a hero
Or a savior of small things
I want to be a champion of evening
To forget not the beauty of the in-betweens.
Every one of us an orphan
Our bodies born from dust of the stars.
We can comfort each other in this place
I can look into your eyes
And see my own face.