Signs that burn like shooting stars
that pass across the nighttime skies,
they reach out in their mystic language
for us to read between the lines.
Some are born who would defy them,
others still who would deny them, signs.

Signs like moments hung suspended,
echoes just beneath the heart
speak in voices half remembered
and half forgotten play their part.
Signs that come as we lay sleeping
left behind for our keeping, signs.

Sail along, sail along the reefs and the coves inside your soul.
Sail along, sail along in search of a star that you can hold.
And we journey far to where that star may lead to (lead to).

Signs that whisper in the dreams of sailors
and of river queens of paupers and of men with means,
it all depends on how it reads.
Some are born who never need them,
others still who never read them, signs.

Sail along, sail along the reefs and the coves inside your soul.
Sail along, sail along in search of a star that you can hold.
And we journey far to where that star may lead to (lead to).
Signs, signs.

Some are born who never need them,
others still who never read them, signs.