Slow trains circle on in poppy fields,
the long grass glitters gold,
waving among the shards of golden light.
Like velvet fields on the moor's gown,
they swing to the arms of the wind,
while sweet laughter keeps rolling on,
making circles in fields of poppy red.

far away from castles of bricks,
we make here, floating palaces in the air.
Circling around in patches of green grass and pebble soldiers,
we rumble on on the hills,
the laughter lights up the forest beyond,
at horizon of poppy red meeting the carpets of trees.