I once wrote a book about two men
They went round the world and back again
One was Julian - one was me

Such a passion to be free

We watched UFOs from southern shores

back in 65 - or 64
This is memory; these are dreams
Only he knows what I mean


Everything returns to dust
And it all gets blown away

And we all get born again to live another day
And the dust gets blown away


I like counting stars on frosty nights
One million years go by to see that light
I dream of broken wings - I dream of dust

we are gold and we are dust

It's a shame to count the days - so many days

It's a shame to count the days - so many days

Everything returns to dust

And it all gets blown away
And we all get born again to live another day
And the dust gets blown away