Come to my house
and never knock
no matter who you are
you will have the open door
don't tell me how you are
or what you have ever done... never
like the air
that flies over distant lands
and has no masters
who are we
silver stripes
on a car that runs
If the night flies away
the great oak is there 
in the deserts in Tunisia
the moon will speak to you 
you sleep too you know
stars from the East and then...then
steal a smile from the sky
take a quick summer and go
stay
like the air
that flies over distant lands
and has no masters
who are we
traveling hearts
among thieves and merchants
like the air
that comes
He has glider wings up there. Who are we? Without chains, for better or for worse?

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