In the soft haze of the passions which come from inside us
You arrive to play in my backyard
Your horse, your bare chest, your hair blowing in the wind
And the sun is drying our clothes on the clothes line
In the soft haze of the passions which come from inside us
You arrive to play in my backyard
Your horse, your bare chest, your hair blowing in the wind
And the sun is drying our clothes on the clothes line
You are coming, you are coming
I can already hear your signs
You are coming, you are coming
I can already here your signs
The voice of the angel whispered into my ears
I don’t doubt it, I can already hear your signs
That you would come in a Sunday morning
And I annunciate your arrival with the ringing bells of the cathedrals
You are coming, you are coming
I can already hear your signs
You are coming, you are coming
I can already here your signs
In the soft haze of the passions which come from inside us
You arrive to play in my backyard
Your horse, your bare chest, your hair blowing in the wind
And the sun is drying our clothes on the clothes line
You are coming, you are coming
I can already hear your signs
You are coming, you are coming
I can already here your signs
The voice of the angel whispered into my ears
I don’t doubt it, I can already hear your signs
That you would come in a Sunday morning
And I annunciate your arrival with the ringing bells of the cathedrals
You are coming, you are coming
I can already hear your signs
You are coming, you are coming
I can already here your signs