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The new born moon seems like a cradle, shining on the desert sand |
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Scent of sandalwood and jasmine, a goddess with a silver skin |
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I am painting all your flowers, |
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I'm the shadow of your dream |
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Who changed your opium to money shiva calls your name, |
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Why don't you sleep? |
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You're not worth a passing glance, |
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I'm the picture in your mind |
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Who can feel the wind blows gently sparkling dust over the land |
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A stone is not a stone until |
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I tell you what it's supposed to be |
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Who changed your opium to money shiva calls again, |
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Why don't you sleep? |
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And all our dreams are rushing to the river |
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The river that has always flowed |
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When maya comes and sets our hearts on fire |
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Our dreams will show the way back home |
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Lighter than a tuft of feathers, dancing with the rays of light |
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Digging oceans with my fingers, patterns carved into the sky |
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The creation of the earth is in my sight which no one's seen before |
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Sparkles of awakening knowledge shiva calls your name, |
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Why don't you sleep? |
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And all our dreams are rushing to the river |
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The river that has always flowed |
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When maya comes and sets our hearts on fire |
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Frightened and weeping |
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I read my name on a tombstone in a graveyard |
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I don't know |
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In another dimension sitting with a pale face |
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On the hill of the dead! |
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The clouds all painted pink |
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Me wrapped in white cotton, nobody can see me at all |
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The letters of my name, iridescent and melting in the sun |
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Unsatisfied and restless, seeking in wrong places |
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Wading through a sea of my desires |
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When I burned away my bonds |
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I knew that |
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I could not remain the same! |
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I left a fragment of my soul |
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Knotted in a tree top as a present for the endless universe |
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My form is full of light |
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As I'm going to the woods to find myself again |
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All the good, all the bad |
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All the pleasure, all the pain |
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All the yearnings of the brave, |
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All the sun and all the rain |
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All the beauty, all the dirt |
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All the love and all the hate |
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All the laughing, all lamenting, the acceptance of our fate |
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All illusions that we have, |
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All our secret fairytales, |
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Are doomed to slow decay; are flowing down the stream. |
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So come and kiss my silver skin while |
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I paint pictures in your mind |
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So you can feel again that life's just a dream within a dream. |