On my way to the cliff I met an old man
tall, smart, pretty bright a real gentleman
we shared a few words, well, deep thoughts in fact

and suddenly rang a bell when he put his hand on mine

I followed his look, staring at the horizon
Where I could nearly read his past and story line
as the sun was turning the sea into a blank mirror of lights
voices coming from the sky were telling me to dive
or maybe the cotton clouds convincing me that I could fly

but in my old man’s hands, and in my old man’s arms
I could finally find my feet digging in the ground
but in my old man’s eyes and in my old man’s voice
I could finally understand that my whole life had just started

when the rain pretends to be made of tears
and the wind whispers that life is a lie
if you find the strength to climb up to the top of the hill
then you have the power to start a new life relieved

(Merci à Van de wiele pour cettes paroles)