| I fly like the light through the void
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| Through emptiness
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| All, all you can see
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| Is my work, there’s nothing less
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| I am everywhere and nowhere
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| I am, I was, I’ll be there
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| I am within and without you
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| But you close your eyes, you stop your ears
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| You put your head into the sand
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| You still hold on to your flesh
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| You are looking pass the truth
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| There’s no revealing me I can’t be unfurled
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| I am somewhere in your mind
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| I’m the child with many names
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| I am many still but one
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| I’m beyond but yet inside your
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| World — that is like it is
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| Otherwise it wouldn’t be at all
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| Come — come take my hand
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| Where I call you’ll have to go
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| Collecting information you’re part of the sensation
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| You will join my flight through
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| Universe
|
| But you close your eyes, you stop your ears
|
| You put your head into the sand
|
| You still hold on to your flesh
|
| You are looking pass the truth
|
| There’s no revealing me I can’t be unfurled
|
| I am somewhere in your mind
|
| I’m the child with many names
|
| I am many still but one
|
| I’m beyond but yet
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| Inside
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| Your World. |
| .. .
|
| There’s a lonely wanderer
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| He’s been walking many miles
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| The moos has always beamed its light
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| Upon his foggy face
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| He can tell you a tale of life through his eyes
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| Bound to walk through all human ties
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| Everyone’s been on the ship sailing the sea of time
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| We move towards what’s yet to come
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| And from what’s used to be
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| Constantly the world is changing, no matter where
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| You look
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| Still there’s things we can’t perceive and cannot see
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| Centuries are turning — Generations changing
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| The earth shifts face as well as I
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| There’s even change among the stars
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| We dream of being someone else
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| Wore beautiful and wiser
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| Yet keeping our integrity, our inner personality
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| I want my soul to remain
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| Eternal life
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| Let my thoughts be the same
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| Change my body, yes come change my face
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| Change my flesh into some unknown form
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| But keep my mind so I can sense the world
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| Beyond the Realms of Death I see the world
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| Hear the world. |
| .. sense the world
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| And I know the smell, know the taste
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| Knowing love Still!
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| Stones, flowers and trees
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| And the wise fountain of life
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| Can you tell a tale of long ago
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| How people in the evening glow
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| Were making vows of life and love
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| I was the one who first solved the cube of Rubick
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| Then came a second and the third
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| Would do the trick
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| All the ones that followed could easily twist
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| Filling up the common mind, now everybody know
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| Everywhere there’s street talk
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| Rumors going 'round
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| From neighbor to neighbor
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| Woman to man
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| Someone or something watch and hears it all
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| Then puts it in its memory
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| Fashion comes and goes, I say not the way
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| It’s in the air, it’s everywhere, it’s even in your drink
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| One is all and all is one and there is no denying
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| Capitalize on all our deeds makes the world go 'round
|
| Everywhere there’s street talk
|
| Rumors going 'round
|
| From neighbor to neighbor
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| Woman to man
|
| Someone or something watch and hears it all
|
| Then puts it in its memory
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| I’m moving on upon
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| The soil of this earth
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| Watching wanders and miracles
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| The world was created The day I was born
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| And it ends the same day that I die
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| I’m writing songs
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| That’s coming to life
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| Only when someone is listening
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| Letters and signs
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| Printed in black and white
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| Are born when you open the book
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| We think we’re designed to sense it all
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| Every sight and every sound
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| We strongly believe we can understand
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| In fact we’ve got a view
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| A view from nowhere. |
| ..
|
| Brought by the future
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| Are many paths
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| Revealed only when you behold
|
| Appearance of truth can sometimes cheat
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| Truth can contain many sides
|
| The signs of our lives
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| Will eventually fade
|
| Buried for the future man
|
| He will search in the soil, he will search in our graves
|
| Inventing our story someday. |
| ..
|
| I heard a knock on my door
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| And I knew I heard it before
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| There was no one outside
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| I could see his footprints in the snow
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| And the wind was blowing, clouds were chasing
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| And the moon was shining down
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| Upon the wanderer, upon his endless roads
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| Like the restless moon above
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| Condemned to drift upon the sky
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| Through poems and reality
|
| When I looked inside through the window pane
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| I could see him inside my room
|
| He was writing songs and many too
|
| Or was it him or was it me
|
| In that I turned around and moved
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| Along. |
| .. .. . |