Old people dream.
I dream, too.
I dream about the friends with whom I’ll grow old,
I dream about the person whose hands I’ll hold,
I dream about being young and in love,
I dream about loved ones, looking down from above.
I dream of the places I’ll one day see,
I dream of being wild and free,
I dream of my house, high on the rocks,
I dream of the sand underneath my socks.
I dream of the people I’d love to greet,
I dream of the things I’ll say when we meet,
I dream of hearing their voices sing,
I dream of being happy with everything.
I dream of travelling with a map in my hand,
I dream of never coming back to this land,
I dream of finding myself – in sense
I dream of jumping far off this fence.
I dream of any things that one day I’ll know,
I dream of the freedom: a dream I won’t let go,
I dream of my future and marvel at my pride
As my heart is flying and singing inside