| «Is this the train to Desert Moon?» |
| was all she said
|
| But I knew I’d heard that stranger’s voice before
|
| I turned to look into her eyes, but she moved away
|
| She was standing in the rain
|
| Trying hard to speak my name
|
| They say first love never runs dry
|
| The waiter poured our memories into tiny cups
|
| We stumbled over words we longed to hear
|
| We talked about the dreams we’d lost, or given up
|
| When a whistle cut the night
|
| And shook silence from our lives
|
| As the last train rolled towards the dune
|
| Those summer nights when we were young
|
| We bragged of things we’d never done
|
| We were dreamers, only dreamers
|
| And in our haste to grow too soon
|
| We left our innocence on Desert Moon
|
| We were dreamers, only dreamers
|
| On Desert Moon, on Desert Moon
|
| On Desert Moon, Desert Moon
|
| I still can hear the whisper of the summer night
|
| It echoes in the corners of my heart
|
| The night we stood and waited for the desert train
|
| All the words we meant to say
|
| All the chances swept away
|
| Still remain on the road to the dune
|
| Those summer nights when we were young
|
| We bragged of things we’d never done
|
| We were dreamers, only dreamers
|
| Moments pass, and time moves on
|
| But dreams remain for just as long
|
| As there’s dreamers, all the dreamers
|
| On Desert Moon, on Desert Moon
|
| On Desert Moon, Desert Moon |