Bluebells

Dancing on the feet of a miracle, while winter's growing cold

Life seems almost cynical in the gardens of green and gold

While the apples of Eden are calling me, I sometimes just can't believe

That man was made a replica of someone else's dream

Away to where the rainbow's just a stony throw away

Where kings and queens assemble just to greet the world and say:

Bear witness to the princess as she lights her precious dome, and bluebells call you home

Home, home, bluebells calling home

Home, home, bluebells calling home

Home to all the broken melodies is a home for all the sunny skies

To rhyme without a reason endlessly, just look at how the butter flies

When the evensong sings through the mezzanine and the birds interrupt the trees

They were talking in the forest hatching up a scheme

When winter comes, they'll up and leave

To find the swirling oceans made of conscience and of clay

The weight of all this nonsense we must carry down the way

Towards the great reunion of the apple and the crow

Come on, it's time to go

Home, home, bluebells calling home (X4)

Tell the trees of sunlight, tell the day of rain

Listen to the flutter rising up again

Better off without a suitcase is the mind

Clutching at a moonbeam, counting out the time

I was only eight when magic touched my ear

Now it seems the only thing I hear

Is the everlasting chorus of an everlasting dream

Locked inside my fantasy

So listen up campers, along with the rain

The promise of sunshine again

With all that is pretty and all that is blue

The bluebell shines for you

Somebody sold my blank endeavour to creatures that walk on the moon, well

In time you'll see the world at the speed of light, as we all set stones in bloom

Home, home, bluebells calling home

Home, home, bluebells calling home

Dancing on the feet of a miracle, while winter's growing cold

Life seems to be almost cynical in the gardens of green and gold (X2)

The light has come to free this song of anything that goes

The featherless magician shakes his head and tells us slow:

The poet down on Main Street can't believe his sunken eyes

A calling from the skies...

(Simon) I've never seen a brighter sun, (Petter) than the one the crow incorporated

(Pontus) Into his painted rivers three, (Johan) as the apple reunites the broken melody

Blue is my direction home, to a world where every ghostly figure

Flutter 'round the cosmic turn as we're dancing on the feet of miracles everywhere

Where do flowers go when all is said and done?

They hope and pray to find a second sun

With golden shores and amber-painted skies

Where poets run and bluebells call home

I've never seen a better day than the one that drove the clouds away

Forever from this holy earth, and the bluebell's simple words just resting in the dirt

And finally it seems to me

This has got to be the place indeed

I'm just sitting in the gardens green, watch the blue above and simply dream my dreamy dream

Where do flowers go when all is said and done?

They hope and pray to find a second sun

With golden shores and amber-painted skies

Where poets run and bluebells call home.