| You knock upon my mind and you beg to borrow a cup of wisdom
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| You’ve come to seek the truth, to ask me where it’s at
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| I thank you for your confidence in me
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| And yet you see I can now draw for you in black and white a map you could
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| follow in your quest for that which all men seek
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| For each man finds that road alone
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| Each day as he eases himself into the stream of life
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| If he is lucky he may come a little nearer to the goal
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| I too have been a prospector wandering through the maze
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| Buffed by the storms and jagged rocks of life
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| That tore the nerve ends of my hopes and dreams
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| And like yours my skin was much too shield me of the inroads of my times
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| The big machines, the strangling crimson tape
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| The hate filled moats that keep us from the other seekers
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| Searching too for the road to where it’s at
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| But then, one day, the fog with in my mind began to clear
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| And for me the truth shown forth as brilliant as a thousand suns
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| I had it all along with in my grasp, the answer
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| So simple that I almost didn’t see it
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| Its love
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| Loving someone more than you love your self loving so much that you trust,
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| you give and you ask nothing in return
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| This is the purest form of love
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| And then
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| And this is the miracle
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| If the one your giving to believes as you, you’ve found it
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| The treasure you’ve been seeking, you’ve found out where it’s at |