Comes from a dream last night
A round moon is bathed with a million lights
In the red sky, ripe like wine
Your face cradles my dream
The idol does not come
The wind blows in branches
My longing is fruitful uh lara
The idol does not come
The wind blows in branches
My longing is fruitful
The idol does not come
The wind blows in branches
My longing is fruitful uh lara
