A wise man's son and Wednesday's child in each other found a
friend,
And searched together for the treasure hiding at the rainbow's

end.
To wise man's son and Wednesday's child all is white that is not
black,

They dance in symbiotic deadlock--one step forward two steps
back,
Playing karmic snakes and ladders (all your sins will find you

out),
When all your gains are lost in vain on cosmic wings and
roundabouts.

At the roadside manhood's flower--blighted by a wayward
youth,
Has cast its seed on well-worn pathways--borne on winds of

whispered truth.
We march to drums of our own choosing--each of them keeps
different time,

As you are free to live your own life so I am free to live
mine.
Now wise man's son and Wednesday's child can recognise their own

mistakes,
And to these ends they make amends for every promise that they
break.

Both wise man's son and Wednesday's child view the world in red
and green,
Await the day when they die laughing--thinking of the sights

they've seen.
I tell you now if they were given chance to live their lives
again--

Wise man's son and Wednesday's child would make the same
mistakes as then.
At the roadside manhood's flower--blighted by a wayward

youth,
Has cast its seed on well-worn pathways--borne on winds of
whispered truth.

We march to drums of our own choosing--each of them keeps
different time,
As you are free to live your own life so I am free to live mine.