The gray, silent clouds move slowly, slowly.
They echo, in their silence, silent me.
They’re way up high, and I’m lonely, lonely.
Oh, if I were only there—with she.

Across this land, these mountains, o’er the sea,
The gray, silent clouds move slowly, slowly,
But in the right direction—where is she.
They do not know, can’t even think, of me.

Yet time will come when I am soaring free
Past every cloud—how fast I’ll go to she!
But now, I’m way down low, lonely, lonely,
While gray, silent clouds move slowly, slowly.