| From the canyons of the mind
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| Whe wander on and stumble blindly
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| Through the often tangled maze
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| Of starless nights and sunless days
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| While asking for some kind of clue
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| A road to lead us to the truth
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| But who will answer
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| Side by side two people stand
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| Together vowing hand in hand
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| That love’s embedded in their hearts
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| But soon an empty feeling starts
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| To overwhelm their hollow lives
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| And when they seek the «hows» and «whys»
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| Who will answer
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| On a strange and distant hill
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| A young man’s lying very still
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| His arms will never hold his child
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| Because a bullet running wild
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| Has struck him down! |
| and now we cry
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| «Dear God! |
| oh why, oh why»
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| But who will answer
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| High upon a lonely ledge
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| A figure teeters near the edge
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| And jeering crowds collect below
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| To egg him on with «go man go»
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| But who will ask what led him
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| To his private day of doom
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| And who will answer
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| If the soul is darkened
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| By a fear it cannot name
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| If the mind is baffled
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| When the rules don’t fit the game
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| Who will answer…
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| Hallelujah
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| In this room with darkened shades
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| The scent of sandalwood pervades
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| The coloured thoughts in muddled heads
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| Reclining on the rumpled beds
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| Of unmade dreams that can’t come true
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| And when we ask what we should do
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| Who will answer
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| Neath the spreading mushroom tree
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| The world revolves in apathy
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| As overhead a row of specks
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| Roars on, drowned out by discotheques
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| And if a secret button’s pressed
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| Because one man has been outguessed
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| Who will answer
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| In our hope in walnut shells
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| Worn round the neck with temple bells?
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| Or deep within some cloistered walls
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| Were hooded figures pray in balls?
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| Or in old books on dusty shelves?
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| Or in our stars? |
| Or in ourselves?
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| Who will will asnwer
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| If the sould is darkened
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| By a fear it cannot name
|
| If the mind is baffled
|
| When the rules don’t fit the game
|
| Who will answer…
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| Hallelujah |