Sitting under an orange tree
The father, his big fish and me
Now he could tell a tale or two 
With his scales so silver blue
The violins are playing some old forgotten song

The clouds of silver purple grey
They go, pick up my dreams and wash them all away
They're telling stories everyday
And then from town to town, they go their separate ways

The shoes where hanging in that tree
Close to a big old mountain
And in the end he really met 
His father's friend there in the fountain
The violins are playing a tune, I know

The clouds of silver purple grey
They go, pick up my dreams and wash them all away
They're telling stories everyday
And then from town to town, they go their separate ways

The clouds of silver purple grey
They go, pick up my dreams and wash them all away
They're telling stories everyday
And then from town to town, they go their separate ways

And in the end he really met 
His father's friend there in the fountain