More than a distant land over a shining sea.
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More than the steaming green. More than the shining eyes.
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Well they tell me it's only a dream in Rio.
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Nothing could be as sweet as it seems on this very first day down.
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They remind me, "Son, have you so soon forgotten?"
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Often as not it's rotten inside and the mask soon slips away.
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Strange taste of a tropical fruit, romantic language of the Portuguese.
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Melody on a wooden flute, samba floating in the summer breeze.
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It's all right, you can stay asleep, you can close your eyes,
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you can trust the people of paradise to call your keeper and tender your good-byes.
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Oh, what a night, wonderful one in a million frozen fire Brazilian stars.
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Oh, holy southern cross, later on take me way downtown in a tin can.
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Can't come down from the bandstand, I'm never thrown for such a loss when they say:
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Quando a nossa mae acordar, andareimoz au sol.
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Quando a nossa mae acordar, cantara' pelos sertao.
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Quando a nossa mea acordar, todos os filios saberao.
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Todos os filios saberao, e regozilarao.
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Caught in the rays of the rising sun on the run from the soldier's gun.
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Shouting out loud from the angry crowd, the mild the wild and the hungry child.
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I'll tell you there's more than a dream in Rio.
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I was there on the very day and my heart came back alive.
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There was more, more than the singing voices,
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more than the upturned faces and more than the shining eyes.
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But it's more than the shining eye, more than the steaming green,
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more than the hidden hills, more than the concrete Christ,
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more than a distant land over a shining sea,
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more than a hungry child, more like another time.
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Born of a million years, more than a million years.
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Only A Dream In Rio
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James Taylor |