The silver sun is rising beyond the edgeof the world as I sleepily lie.
And I wonder as the first rays light my bed,
"What sorts of adventures are nigh?"
Will we run through meadows
or skip rocks 'cross a stream?
Will we read tales of princes
and mermaids or dream?
Shall we fence with pirates
or build a secret, sacred maze
where grown-ups can't enter
'cause they lack the pass phrase?
Oh, the things we'll do
when we're heads of state!
We'll live in treehouses
and no one will hate.
We'll be kings and queens
in the land of Imagining,
where a poor man can steward
a bit land for a bit of string.
Come! Throw off your bed clothes.
Kiss this wintery world good-bye.
Fly with me to the morning star.
And we'll have adventures, you and I.
And we'll have adventures, you and I.
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