They set out once again these fans of youth
To finish fancies not so far away
From all the things so different today
Beside forgotten rivers of the truth

They sing of other things behind their mind
In flavored fashioned songs from their old home
A sacred silent bond with which they roam
Creates imagination this refined

Their laughter covered reason for all tears
Of those that found a part amid their heart
To set one’s own reality aright

These saints of old returning through the years
Of washed out fears while memories impart
With fan who dreams of them another night