Oh my baby my little one

How romantic it could be

To climb the sky

Walking on a stair of stars

That shining blue

And build a hamac of clouds

Between the south and the north of the half- moon

And love you again and again again and again

I hang my head like a snowflake- man

In a burning sun

Because I'm my own ghost

I'm really dead this time

I'm dead like the corpse

In their six feet on the graves

How romantic it could be to climb the sky

In a hamac made of clouds

A hamac made of clouds

A hamac made of clouds my little one

Yes I hamac made of clouds

My baby my little one

My baby my little

A hamac made of clouds

My little one