| And the pale-tailed moon goes sailing by
|
| This old engine housing’s streaked with rain
|
| And we’re pushing down on them chains again
|
| Friend we’re like the wind that blows
|
| Like the sea we come and go
|
| And I’m not trying to tell you
|
| How I think that it should be
|
| I know deep down inside
|
| We are yearning to be free
|
| And you’re only gonna think of No 1
|
| So what am I to say
|
| No matter what you do
|
| We’re always hurting anyway
|
| Forever our hearts will be
|
| Always running for what we see
|
| By the strings of this old guitar
|
| I swear, Que sera
|
| And you’re rolling down old runway ten
|
| And the present becomes the past and then
|
| Rotating through the driving rain
|
| And you’re way above those clouds again
|
| And I’m not trying to tell you
|
| How I think that it should be
|
| I know deep down inside
|
| We are yearning to be free
|
| And you’re only gonna think of No 1
|
| So what am I to say
|
| No matter what you do
|
| We’re always hurting anyway
|
| Forever our hearts will be
|
| Always running for what we see
|
| By the strings of this old guitar
|
| I swear, Que sera |