I see you as a buddha might
In his gold and contemplative robes
It is true I suffer from the short sight
Never knowing how to put things right
That is, as it seems, the way life goes
I cross the bridge of dear delight
So lucky to have caught that last flight
There is a purpose I presuppose
Sipping gin, and feeling tight
Floating high and flying kites
Every which way the wind blows
At the lake, close on up to midnight
Trailing paths and fleeing fright
It is the time when the love grows
Our fire of hope is burning bright
We have a fair and reasonably clear
Hold of the insight
Wait for the dreams
As dreamers only know
We are turning back to the first light
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