Yes, I'm a farmer from the south; my hair is grassy like my sleepy sunset and my dream is slow like an old train. If you touch my primitive heart you will see flowing secrets, and if you open my wooden treasure you will find colored stones. Yes, I can accompany the sun smiles and pick up the pink roses but I don't know anything about their songs. Now, I'll tell you a secret; don't love a farmer from the south, because his feelings are always ablaze and his passion is volcanic all the time.