Not everyone speaks/understands French. Not everyone is incredibly bright and gifted, although some of them get by and don't go over to the dark side and live out their days. Here are the lyrics for us little people who lick the soles of boots and say thank you. May I have more, please.
Makers of the Worlds
Your ageless eyes
Are penetrating mirrors,
Shaping and beautifying the world
By their reflection.
The edge of the woods, far away
Becomes a moving temple, iridescent,
Celebrating the birth of spring.
And these immense mountains,
Wanting to join the heavens,
Whirling
Above out heads.
This reality around us,
Is the one you have chosen
And your dreams cover our sphere
With an ideal painting,
Unfolding in the light of your eyes,
At the sound of your voice.
Not everyone speaks/understands French. Not everyone is incredibly bright and gifted, although some of them get by and don't go over to the dark side and live out their days. Here are the lyrics for us little people who lick the soles of boots and say thank you. May I have more, please.
Makers of the Worlds
Your ageless eyes Are penetrating mirrors, Shaping and beautifying the world By their reflection. The edge of the woods, far away Becomes a moving temple, iridescent, Celebrating the birth of spring.
And these immense mountains, Wanting to join the heavens, Whirling Above out heads.
This reality around us, Is the one you have chosen And your dreams cover our sphere With an ideal painting, Unfolding in the light of your eyes, At the sound of your voice.