| Oh father
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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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| Oh let the sun beat down upon my face
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| With stars to fill my dreams
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| I am a traveller of both time and space
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| To be where I have been
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| And sit with elders of a gentle race
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| This world has seldom seen
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| Who talk of days for which they sit and wait
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| When all will be revealed
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| With talk and song from tounges of lilting grace
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| The sounds caressed my ears
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| Though not a word I’ve heard could I relate
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| The story was quite clear
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| All I see turns to brown
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| As the sun burns the ground
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| And my eyes fill with sand
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| As I scan this wasted land
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| Trying to find where I’ve been
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| Oh pilot of the storm who leaves no trace
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| Like thoughts inside a dream
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| Who hid the path that led me to that place
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| With yellow desert screen?
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| My Shangrila beneath the summer moon
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| I will return again
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| Sure as the dust it blows high in June
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| When moving through Kashmir
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| Oh, oh
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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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| When I’m down
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| Baby well I’m down, so down
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| Let me take you there
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| Let me take you there |