Hamac Of Clouds

Oh my baby my little one How romantic it could be to climb the sky Walking on a stair of stars That shining blue And build a hamac of clouds Between the south and the north of the half-moon And love you again and again, and again and again I hang my head like a snowflake-man in a burning sun Because I'm my own ghost I'm really dead, this time I'm dead like the corpse in their six feet on the graves How romantic it could be to climb the sky In a hamac made of clouds In a hamac made of clouds Hamac made of clouds My little one Yes, a hamac made of clouds My baby, my little one My baby, my little one A hamac made of clouds