Dreams Beyond the Shore

In the heart of a sun-kissed street, where the palm trees sway, Lives a crowd with dreams so sweet, in the light of day. They talk of castles in the sky, of fame that's due, But in the mirror of their eyes, the truth peeks through. Swaying to a bossa beat, Under a moon so bright, Dreaming of a world elite, Far from their plight. But in the rhythm of the night, Where sambas play, Lies a truth they cannot fight, Come break of day. There's a painter with no art, a singer without a song, A poet whose words won't start,where did they go wrong? In cafes, they speak of might, of ventures grand, Yet their canvas stays all white, no master hand. Swaying to a bossa beat, Under a moon so bright, Dreaming of a world elite, Far from their plight. But in the rhythm of the night, Where sambas play, Lies a truth they cannot fight, Come break of day. In the heart of everyone, lies a hidden dream, But the journey's just begun, or so it seems. In the land of bossa nova, dreams may soar, But reality takes over, just like before. Swaying to a bossa beat, Under a moon so bright, Dreaming of a world elite, Far from their plight. But in the rhythm of the night, Where sambas play, Lies a truth they cannot fight, Come break of day. Swaying to a bossa beat, Under a moon so bright, Dreaming of a world elite, Far from their plight. But in the rhythm of the night, Where sambas play, Lies a truth they cannot fight, Come break of day.