When the Sun shines bright over the white-capped slopes,
When the mountains beg for one last hope,
I will be free.
Where the birds sing their happiest glee,
Where the grass dances along with the sea,
I will be free.
When the rivers run down the hills as vast as the moon,
When the wind gusts its magical tune,
I will be free.
Where the flowers are gold as they glisten and glow,
Where the clouds and sky cheer for the show,
I will be free.
When the time I live in will not be as brutal,
Where the pressure on you feels so futile.
We will be free.