Renaissance Fair

I smell cinnamon and spices
I hear music everywhere
All around kaleidoscope of color
I think that maybe I’m dreaming
Maids pass gracefully in laughter
Wine-colored flowers in their hair
Last call from lands I’ve never been to
I think that maybe I’m dreaming
Suns flash on a sort of prism
Bright jewels on the ladies flashing
Eyes catch on a shiny prism
Hear ye the crying of the vendors
Fruit for sale, wax candles for to burn
Fires flare, soon it will be night fall
I think that maybe I’m dreaming
I think that maybe I’m dreaming
I think that maybe I’m dreaming