sand
nancy sinatra lee hazlewood
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Young women share your fire with me
My heart is cold, my soul is free
I am a stranger in your land
A wandering man she called me Sand
Oh, sir my fire is very small
It will not warm thy heart at all
But thee may take me by the hand
Hold me and I'll call thee Sand
At nights when stars light up the sky
Oh, sir I dream my fire is high
Oh, taste these lips sir, if you can
A wandering man I'll call thee Sand
Oh, sir my fire is burning high
If it should stop sir, I would die
A shooting star has crossed my land
A wandering man she whispered "Sand"
Young woman shared her fire with me
Now warms herself with memories
I was a stranger in her land
A wandering man she called me Sand
He was a stranger in my land
A wandering man she called me Sand.