Camila

Singers dream of home, Arenas are lonely places, gazing out alone, grasping all our fright, that really is our fame, how the world seems bright, heaven to look out upon, the sea of lovely faces, shine like polished stones, from long summer flights, to every ezotic place, our soul's somehow light, but leave us on paths unknown, doubts creep in like waves, fear of that talent gone, waiters dance in fairy lights, bring cognac to our table, please God will be alright, our act of grace remain.