Saw you in meadow
Himalaya Plateau
Wherever you go
I will follow
And when the stream flows
From the Tibetan Grove
You'll be the first to know
My volcano
As you wander round the foothills of the stars
Finding out the lies
Truths that are despised
When you see you're already upon the line
Behind your sunken eyes
Crying all the time
Maybe we're dreaming
Of our repeating
The void is leaking
The all-seeing
For whom it may concern
We shall never return
Extinction of the ferns
I am the urn
As you wander round the foothills of the stars
Finding out the lies
Truths that are despised
When you find your hands are bleeding for the shrine
Behind yourself at night
Lost in the wind
I was on a train travelling to Seefeld in Austria and had nothing but the Alps to look over from the windows. This was a perfect compliment to the environment I was in Robert A Johnson