We were merely running our dreams, at once their colors running from an early morning dream.Tread softly we said because you were walking on our dreams.
Tiny flowers fell on the road all night long, around the red car, tracing a flowery oval round.They were someone’s dream run. Tread softly we said but your feet had their own dreams.
We have our own dream runs. Every one has his own.
The Morning is Just a Dream 