• Hidden Land

    The faeries are hiding in the flowers,
    The elves are by the tree.
    The spirits are watching idly,
    My, What fools these Mortals be.

    They don't see whats right before them,
    Except the young ones two or three.
    They all will soon forget it,
    My, What fools these Mortals be.

    Upon a breezy hill I stand,
    The wind goes over me.
    This place is full of magic,
    My, What fools these Mortals be.