| 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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| Oh, I been flying… mama, there ain’t no denyin'
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| I’ve been flying, ain’t no denyin', no denyin'
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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 |