My mother always said,
That a red balloon is magic,
That is why it escapes to the sky,
Where no one can ever snatch it,
She said the magic comes from us,
We fill it with our soul,
So that everything that’s precious,
Can never be soiled.
She bought my first little red balloon,
When I was only five,
And she told me to fill it up nice,
And big with important things inside,
So I blew it up with wishes,
And I blew it up with hope.
I blew it up with dreams sky high,
I thought it might explode,
I tied it off with a knot,
And sealed it nice and tight,
Then I released it up into the clouds,
Where it disappeared out of sight.