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- I'm sorry, me? -What's your dream?
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No, no, no. Sorry boys, I don't sing.
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I have dreams like you, no really.
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Just much less, touchy-feely.
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They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny.
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On an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone.
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Surrounded by enormous piles of money.
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- I've got a dream... - She's got a dream.
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- I've got a dream. - She's got a dream.
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I just want to see the floating lanterns gleam.
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And with every passing hour.
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I'm so glad I left my tower.