Vārdi:
Sinatra Nancy Sand

man, I 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 Wandering man, she whispered sand, sand

land Wandering man She whispered sand Young woman shared her fire with me Now warms herself in memory I was a stranger in her land A wandering man, she called me sand Sand

land Wandering man She whispered sand Young woman shared her fire with me Now warms herself in memory I was a stranger in her land A wandering man, she called me sand Sand