What dreams are made of, do you know?
The light of morning, or the setting sun?
Of silence when winter comes in snow,
Or the flame of hope that always burns?
What our dreams are made of? Are they
Breath of life, the essence everlasting,
Or eternity itself the day we pass away,
Or only ashes that the wind is casting?
What dreams are made of? Do they come
From the deepest truth within your soul?
Do they hold the things that left undone,
Or are they all like us condemned to fall?
What dreams are made of, can you tell?
Fabric of the future, or what was before?
Woven into paradise, or perhaps in hell,
Of all what's left and gone forevermore?
What dreams are made of? Are they yet
The glit of joy, your laughter, or maybe
Made of all the tears we do not forget,
The pain and sorrow deep inside of me?
Do you know what dreams are made of?
Wishes that never come to life for ever?
Longing, or the smile of the one you love?
Or perhaps they're all those things together.