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...