Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dreams,
I am a traveller of both time and space, to be where I have been,
Sit with elders of a gentle race, world has seldom seen,
Talk of days for which they sit and wait, All will be revealed.
Talk and songs from tongues of lilting grace, sounds caress my ears,
Not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear.
WHOOA OH, WHOOA OH
All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground,
And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land,
Try'n to find, try'n to find where I've been.
Father of the storm that leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream,
Here's the map that led me to that place, yellow desert stream,
Like Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again,
As the desert wind floats high in June, we're moving through kashmir.
Oh father of the four winds fill my sails, cross the sea of years,
with no provisions but an open face, along the straits of fear.
WHOOA OH, WHOOA OH