When I was young I lived in a world of dreams,of moods and myths
And illusionary schemes.
Though now I'm much more grown up,
I fear that I must own up
To the fact that I'm in doubt of,
What the modern cynics shout of.
They say it's spring, this feeling light as a feather.
They say this thing, this magic we share together.
Darling I thought we knew
That it wasn't spring,
'Twas you.
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