But some of the secrets have to stay
like shadows in the garden,
dark shades for singing birds
hugging the old branches.

Do not look deeper into me
for some of the secrets have to stay
where they were born
bearing the thumping of the good old heart.

but some secrets have to stay
like unsaid love
in some gay corner of the heart
lined with dreams and some distant song.

and still if you think you can get deeper into me,
and think you think like me,
then come dance with me
in the wild, wild woods.

and still if you think you can get deeper into me,
I'll show you the leaping green spirits of the trees,
the true blue dream of the sky and the sea,
and one last hug of the rainbow.

but still some secrets have to stay
like hidden words in poetry's womb,
like sweet honey in wild flowers,
like a long tale that never ends.