They come and they go
They do not let me know
I am afraid to speak
But the words found a leak
A poem on a cloud
A voice with no sound
Something of a dream
Something good, I deem
But then it is my heart
That is played with as a cart
Taken and moved and driven
By one, two, three, and seven
Players, halt thy playing hand
Push me up, above the mystic land
Drop there, where I can fly
And smile as I go up high
Leave me wander for I crave
To be left alone in my own cave
To roam the world on my magical carpet
It's my dream. Got my target?!
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