|
Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face |
|
Stars to fill my dreams |
|
I am a traveler of both time and space |
|
To be where |
|
I have been |
|
To sit with elders of the gentle race |
|
This world has seldom seen |
|
They talk of days for which they sit and wait |
|
And all will be revealed, yeah |
|
Talk and songs from tongues of lilting grace |
|
Whose sounds caress my ear |
|
But not a word |
|
I heard could |
|
I relateThe story was quite clear |
|
Step onNo denying, no denying, oh |
|
All I see, it turns to brown |
|
As the sun burns on the ground |
|
And my eyes they fill with sand |
|
As I scan this wasted land |
|
Try to find |
|
Try to find where |
|
I've beenAll |
|
I see, it turns to brown |
|
As the sun burns on the ground |
|
And my eyes they fill with sand |
|
As I scan this wasted land |
|
Try to find |
|
Try to find just where |
|
I've beenAnd my eyes they filled with sand |
|
Oh, pilot of the storm which leaves no trace |
|
Like thoughts inside a dream |
|
Heed the path that led me to that place |
|
A yellow desert stream |
|
My Shangrila beneath the summer moon |
|
I will return again |
|
Sure as the dust that floats so high and true |
|
When moving through |
|
KashmirOh, father of the four winds, fill my sails |
|
Across the sea of years |
|
With no provision but an open face |
|
Along the straits of fear |
|
Oh, woah yea, oh, woah yeah |
|
It turns to brown |
|
As the sun burns on the ground |
|
And my eyes they fill with sand |
|
As I scan this wasted land |
|
Try to find |
|
Try to find where |
|
I've been, yeah |
|
All I see it turns to brown |
|
As the sun burns on the ground |
|
And my eyes they fill with sand |
|
As I scan this wasted land |
|
Try to find |
|
Try to find where |
|
I've been, yeah |
