Turning Round

Flying, I thought I'd never learn that flying
I thought I'd spend my whole life trying,
For flying is that ancient art
of keeping one foot on the ground...

Lying, I thought I'd never keep from lying,
I thought I'd lose it all by sighing,
For lying is that ancient art
of hiding words that will never be found

Crying, I thought I'd never stop that crying,
I thought I'd always dream of dying
For crying is that ancient art
of weeping rivers into the ground

Oh Dying, I thought I'd never see that dying,
I thought I'd spend my whole life flying,
For dying is that ancient art
of keeping one world turning round

Sighing, I thought I'd never keep from sighing
I thought I'd always be there crying,
For sighing is that ancient art
of breathing sadness all around

And trying, I thought I'd spend my seasons trying,
I thought I could stop myself from lying,
For trying is that ancient art
of proving that the world is round

Oh Flying, oh oh, Lying, oh oh,
Crying, oh oh, Sighing, oh oh,
Trying, oh oh, and Dying, oh oh,
For Dying is that ancient art
of growing flowers in the ground,
Yes it is...

Volando

Volando, pienso que nunca aprendo a volar,
pienso que gasté mi entera vida intentándolo,
porque volar es aquel antiguo arte
de mantener un pie en la tierra...

Mentir, pienso que nunca me cuidé de la mentira,
pienso que perdí todo por suspirar,
porque mentir es aquel antiguo arte
de esconder palabras que nunca se encontraron.

Llorar, pienso que nunca terminará aquel llanto,
que siempre soñaré con morir ,
porque llorar es aquel antiguo arte
de verter ríos dentro de la tierra.

Oh, morir, pienso que nunca vi la muerte,
yo pasé mi entera vida volando,
porque morir es aquel antiguo arte
de mantener un mundo girando.

Suspirar , pienso que nunca me guardé de suspirar,
pienso que siempre estaré allí llorando,
porque suspirar es aquel antiguo arte
de respirar la tristeza que nos rodea.

Intentar, yo pienso que pasé mis tiempos intentando,
pienso que pude dejar de mentir,
porque intentar es aquel antiguo arte
de probar que el mundo es redondo.

Oh, volando, oh, oh, mintiendo, oh, oh,
Llorando, oh, oh, suspirando, oh, oh,
intentando, oh, oh, y muriendo, oh, oh,
porque morir es aquel antiguo arte
de crecer flores en la tierra,
Si así es...