In the fields of strawberry, Where the sky is blue and merry, The Beatles sing their song, 
And the surreal world comes along. 

The children play and dance, 
In the fields of strawberry trance, The music takes them high, 
And they fly up to the sky. 

The trees are made of gold, 
And the flowers never get old, The sun is always shining bright, And the day never turns into night. 

The surreal world is full of wonder, 
Where everything is a little bit under, 
The Beatles sing their song, 
And the surreal world comes along.

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