Stan کے بول

All over town the dreamers have landed starting a brand new day Somewhere downstairs a kettle is boiling whistling hard, slowly blowin' away Down here on earth it's Saturday morning waiting for the start of play On the happy hunting grounds of winter at three o'clock this afternoon Over the moon All of my dreams I play number seven two feet clear of the ground Born on the voices of forty-odd thousand down to the line, over for Morty to find And there in the back of the net in slow motion the meaning of life has been found On the happy hunting grounds of winter at three o'clock this afternoon Over the moon And I'm glad I saw Stanley Over the hills and into the heavens back into the old space age Was it my dad who took me to Blackpool to carry the torch, borrow the touch of the sage Or was it my luck to grow up in a sunset reluctantly turning the page On the happy hunting grounds of winter at three o'clock this afternoon Over the moon And I'm glad I saw Stanley