He's seeing bright stars over me
The open walls in his mind
He's drinking tea in a cool breeze
There's not much wrong to be right
Mining back in old days
A stormy lighthouse turned grey
An old image in your mind
Graffiti walls, more past times
Some old long windows look down
A new life drawing, a lounge
Time to look a new way, into the sun
In the morning you're holding me
On your mind, is last night
If talk is cheap, then he is yours to see
My chamomile tastes just right
Tea in a cool breeze