كلمات Maker

Days of yellow saffron. Nights with purple skies. Melting in the sunbeams From my maker's eyes. Mountain-colored lilac In the distant haze. I would like to lie here, Timing all my days Move past my window, Sunshine is shimmering Jack-o-lanterns glimmering, Giant moths are flickering around. See, the moon is hiding Underneath the sea. Pretty soon he'll venture To take a look at me. So I humbly stand here Beneath his golden glow. Doesn't he remind me Of somebody I know? I must be leaving, Back to reality. Don't you just pity me? I could so easily stay here.