Ever looked above to the sky
And thought the sun today isn't hot
The suddenly wind blows the clouds preventing the sunrays
And it starts burning you ...
Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
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