It was the night before, 
When all through the world, 
No words, no dreams 
Then one day, 
writer by a fire 
Imagined all of Gaia 
Took a journey into a childless heart... 

painter on the shore 
Imagined all the world 
Within the snowflake on his palm 
dream of poetry, 
I'll tell is over 
Cutting in, 
Falling back in to the stars... 

I am the voice of never, never land, 
The innocence of dreams from every man, 
I am the empty grave of Peter Pan, 
soaring kite against the blue, blue sky, 
Every chimney, every moonlit sight 
I am the story that will read you real, 
Every memory that you hold dear 

I am the journey, 
I am the destination, 
I am the whole mad tale 
That grieves you 
Away to taste the night, 
Free and loose we fly! 
Follow the madness, 
How do you know what's real? 

Imaginarium, a dream emporium! 
Caress the tales 
And they will read you real 
storyteller's game, 
Inside he flicks the gate 
The calling heart 
Is a limitless chest of tales... 

I am the voice of never, never land, 
The innocence of dreams from every man, 
I am the empty grave of Peter Pan, 
soaring kite against the blue, blue sky, 
Every chimney, every moonlit sight 
I am the story that will read you real, 
Every memory that you hold dear 

I am the voice of never, never land, 
The innocence of dreams from every man, 
Searching heavens for another earth...