Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream
I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been
To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen
They talk of days for which they sit and wait, all will be revealed

Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relay, the story was quite clear

All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground
And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land
Trying to find, trying to find where I've been.

Oh, pilot of the storm that leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream
You've the map that led me to that place, yellow desert stream
My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again
Sure as the dust that blows high in June, when moving through Kashmir.

Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years