Hollow lane, blooming stars Crystalline line of horizon Echoed sounds coming from space There are milky roads Ropes to climb up to the top of Curly clouds rolling gently And it isn't late to whistle a new tune And it isn't late to paint doors and white rooms Oh, I've singable dreams Oh, I've crumbs of some petty bright days Hollow lane, blooming stars Crystalline line of horizon Echoed sounds coming from space And it isn't late to whistle a new tune And it isn't late to paint doors and white rooms Oh, I've singable dreams Oh, I've crumbs of bright days And it isn't late to whistle a new tune And it isn't late to paint doors and white rooms Oh, I've singable dreams Oh, I've crumbs of some petty bright day