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Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream |
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I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been |
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To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen |
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They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed |
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Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear |
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But not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear |
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Oh, oh. |
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All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground |
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And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land |
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Trying to find, trying to find where I've been. |
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Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream |
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Heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream |
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My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again |
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Sure as the dust that floats high in June, when movin' through Kashmir. |
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Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years |
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With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear |
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Ohh. |
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When I'm on, when I'm on my way, yeah |
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When I see, when I see the way, you stay-yeah |
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Ooh, yeah-yeah, ooh, yeah-yeah, when I'm down... |
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Ooh, yeah-yeah, ooh, yeah-yeah, well I'm down, so down |
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Ooh, my baby, oooh, my baby, let me take you there |
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Let me take you there. Let me take you there |
