If my hands weren't there, like I saw in the stream

Of the drawings been made on a full colour screen

If they weren't to be found, then what else could I be?

If your hands weren't there, like I saw in my dreams

And the poets we made, had all gone, disappeared

Then what else, then what else could I be?

If your hands and my hands strolled together around

If they were to make friends we'd be possibly up

To escape from this world, from this no past land.

If I looked in the windows while walking pass through

If I stared at the willows with my seven black truths

If my eyes were to see what belongs to your mind...

If you'd like, keep perceiving what lies on my back

And your eyes will shine through the glass of my wine

And the windows, the willows, the pillows, and your mouth.

If your hands and my hands strolled together around

If they were to make friends we'd be possibly up

To escape from this world, from this no past land