The Golden Sun

That noon day with the golden sun..
as we whispered words of love...
in the wings of the wind, there's always a little rain.
As we danced...it falls on your hair,
your eyes your lips we take thirsty sips, looking in-to your eyes...
it's been a long way, from the foot of that lighthouse,
to the very top of that mountain high, to the fire by the riverside,
burning, burning somewhat, to the cooling by the waterfall,
as we immersed ourselves, to the point of no return...
as we whispered, whispered sweet nothings...
our minds refusing to think, beyond the here and now...
we could move that mountain, if we set our minds to..
as I whisper softly, softly, can you hear my love,
my words my words, that's all that's, left of me...physically or mentally...
Quand chuchoter ... l'epique parole d' amour, pour vous.