Dancing on the feet of a miracle, while winter's growing cold
Life seems almost cynical in the gardens of green and gold
While the apples of Eden are calling me, I sometimes just can't believe
That man was made a replica of someone else's dream

Away to where the rainbow's just a stony throw away
Where kings and queens assemble just to greet the world and say:
Bear witness to the princess as she lights her precious dome, and bluebells call you home
Home, home, bluebells calling home
Home, home, bluebells calling home

Home to all the broken melodies is a home for all the sunny skies
To rhyme without a reason endlessly, just look at how the butter flies
When the evensong sings through the mezzanine and the birds interrupt the trees
They were talking in the forest hatching up a scheme
When winter comes, they'll up and leave

To find the swirling oceans made of conscience and of clay
The weight of all this nonsense we must carry down the way
Towards the great reunion of the apple and the crow
Come on, it's time to go
Home, home, bluebells calling home (X4)

Tell the trees of sunlight, tell the day of rain
Listen to the flutter rising up again
Better off without a suitcase is the mind
Clutching at a moonbeam, counting out the time
I was only eight when magic touched my ear
Now it seems the only thing I hear
Is the everlasting chorus of an everlasting dream
Locked inside my fantasy

So listen up campers, along with the rain
The promise of sunshine again
With all that is pretty and all that is blue
The bluebell shines for you
Somebody sold my blank endeavour to creatures that walk on the moon, well
In time you'll see the world at the speed of light, as we all set stones in bloom

Home, home, bluebells calling home
Home, home, bluebells calling home

Dancing on the feet of a miracle, while winter's growing cold
Life seems to be almost cynical in the gardens of green and gold (X2)

The light has come to free this song of anything that goes
The featherless magician shakes his head and tells us slow:
The poet down on Main Street can't believe his sunken eyes
A calling from the skies...

(Simon) I've never seen a brighter sun, (Petter) than the one the crow incorporated
(Pontus) Into his painted rivers three, (Johan) as the apple reunites the broken melody
Blue is my direction home, to a world where every ghostly figure
Flutter 'round the cosmic turn as we're dancing on the feet of miracles everywhere

Where do flowers go when all is said and done?
They hope and pray to find a second sun
With golden shores and amber-painted skies
Where poets run and bluebells call home

I've never seen a better day than the one that drove the clouds away
Forever from this holy earth, and the bluebell's simple words just resting in the dirt
And finally it seems to me
This has got to be the place indeed
I'm just sitting in the gardens green, watch the blue above and simply dream my dreamy dream

Where do flowers go when all is said and done?
They hope and pray to find a second sun
With golden shores and amber-painted skies
Where poets run and bluebells call home.

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