[Verse 1] The wind's a player, in this world so near, Where sound and echo make the puzzles clear. With hand-drawn strokes and colors, stark and bold, Of industry's touch, stories to unfold. Much fine detail, to deeply scrutinize, A visual feast, to catch our watching eyes. [Chorus 1] A nomad walks, through realms he's set to roam, Aiding his comrades, far from their own home. He seeks a means, to voyage far and wide, More than a pilgrim, where fates coincide. [Verse 2] The road itself, his purpose, clear and bright, He guides small beings, shining ever light. They guard their tree, their life, with fervent plea, Unusual mechanics, setting all life free. The world "alive," a marvel to behold, A fairy tale, for young and for the old. [Chorus 2] Here puzzles root in what surrounds us all, And cozy styles, answer nature's call. The pilgrim's code, paths crossing, on they blend, Combine the figures, items without end. From this union, tiny stories rise, The style, the aura, captivating eyes. [Bridge] A wordless language, spoken by the soul, With wit and nonsense, making spirits whole. Zin-zin, flim-flam, Click-clack, boom-bam, Hear the wind’s soft chime? Mур-мур, plim-plum, Cup and gear, the old house come. Дзинь-дзинь, тик-так, Light through rain and dark! The path leads me through five hundred roads [Outro] For in each corner, waiting to be seen, A little tale, eternally serene. Each person met, a stranger in their plight, With their own journey, bathed in hopeful light.
