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Climb out your windows children coach is set to go
For the open day at Roswell and the field trip to Guantanamo
Take it from the cobra who spits upon the grave
Of the man who played the blues upon its rightful charmerâs stage
With every shruti so refined thereâs a raga of your own
And if thereâs love where iâm going then iâll be going home
All you disciples that just donât know where to look
If youâre called upon by mellotrons then lay your hand down on my book
Maybe weâre useless in the things that we create
And so say weâll surrender to salvation in some higher state
Maybe iâll sing peace salaam, shanti, shalom
If thereâs love where iâm going then iâll be going home
So climb down your drainpipes children on your merry way
To the conference entitled âThe West Has Had Its Dayâ
Take it from the singing larks and the nightingales of May
Who survey their own horizons and the harvest is their cabaret
Swooping onto pastures new when every seed is sewn singing
If thereâs love where iâm going then iâll be going home
- Album:
- Nine Fragments