(HenryDenver)
Peaceful valleys, animals and children asking me,
tell the story that you told of sailors drinking tea.
Tell the one about the man who saddled up the wind,
Pegasus and flying fish and woodmen made of tin.
A kid knows what he wants to be before he's nine or ten,
cowboys, clowns and men of war, someone else's friend.
But nine grows into big boy's pants and then to scars and pain.
Twenty's fast and hard as nails but doesn't come again.
There's days to fall and days to rise and days for making haste.
Days for seeking out yourself but no days you can waste.
Night times filled with love so good it aches to rest it down.
Endless hallways dark with sleep and rivers dark with sound.
Peaceful valleys, animals and children asking me,
tell the story that you told of sailors drinking tea.
Tell the one about the man who saddled up the wind,
Pegasus and flying fish and woodmen made of tin.
Children climbing on my arms, pigeons on my head.
Get thee up my little man and dream a dream instead.
Dream a dream of rocking chairs and flying through the night.
Then dream until the morning's gone and turned the dark to light.
Then come and get your daddy if he hasn't blown away.
Rock him in your children's hands and help him find his way.
Take him to your hiding place and let him come inside,
he'll never tell your secret, cross my heart and hope to die.
Peaceful valleys, animals and children asking me,
tell the story that you told of sailors drinking tea.
Tell the one about the man who saddled up the wind,
Pegasus and flying fish and woodmen made of tin.
Pegasus and flying fish and woodmen made of tin.
