Mother's Day moody madness in Montreux, 2009.
And everybody here is a cloud
And everybody here will evaporate
You came up off the ground
From a million little pieces, have you found where your place is?
And everybody here is a cloud
And everybody here will evaporate
You came up off the ground
From a million little pieces, have you found where your place is?
You gotta do what you gotta do. Even if that means turn right back around and go home. Little people grow up pretty fast. At least they like to think so; big people think differently. It's often safer at home anyway. And the clouds will follow you there.
Tranquilo, mi niño. Tranquilo. Días mejores están por venir.
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