Lend me a little while,
a little while the key
rarer than books
and pearls and beads
bright to see.
It locks your heavy portal,
and then I'll give you back
this little Key of Dreams
straight out of my pack.
Oh well, well, well,
oh my, oh my.
Your fate is fixed,
yet my mind is mixed up
for good.
Give me the key
that locks your tired eyes,
brighter than painted books that
make men wise,
and I will lent you this one,
one from my pack.
Take it (take it), take it (take it)–
no, give it back!
Oh well, well, well,
oh my, oh my.
Your fate is fixed,
yet my mind is mixed up
for good.
Sometimes,
oh, sometimes
I know the way.
You walk,
you walk up over the bay;
it is the wind
from that distant dusty sea
that blows the fragnance
of your hair to me.
Or in the garden
when the breeze,
when the breeze
it touches my trees
to stir their shadows
on the red grass,
I see you pass,
you always just pass.
You always just pass.
What if we stopped
and let ourselves go by?
There by the wayside,
forgotten you and I.
What if my ghost
caught and captured yours,
would you still hide
behind the bolted doors?
Oh well, well, well,
oh my, oh my.
Your fate is fixed,
yet my mind is mixed up
for good.
That's right.
Oh well, well, well,
oh my, oh my.
Your fate is fixed,
yet my mind is mixed up
for good.