They love you, they love you not
An answer comes with petals plucked.
Remember your childhood, recall your dreams
flying with their blowing seeds?
All too soon, they quickly die.
All too soon, we see weeds fly.
All too soon, we no longer believe
Dandelion seeds hold all our dreams.
The time has come, I hope you see,
Children can lead you to the fantasy
When a deep breath and gentle blow
Will take you where all dreams can flow.