if when I die, God says to me
you may be whatever will set you free
I would say, Oh lord, please, i wish to be
the lemon tree of Amalfi.
Oh me! Oh my! This little angel can not fly.
He just sits and softly cries.
His wings are singed, he flew into the pits of hell
and has a sad, sad story to tell.
Yesterday and yesterday, alone my brother lay.
No one, not me, not you, will ever know what's true.
The sea, the desert and frozen tundra
Have taken souls down under with out a sign or trace.
within in the cradle of the crescent moon
i sail the milky way into the green lagoon
to hear my mother's song and fairies tell
of shahrazad and nightingales.
Absurd dreams of automobiles and washing machines
Concieved in lust, pride and greed.
Where are we going so shinning and new
What do we want, what do we need