You see the body is the Buddhi tree

The mind a clear mirror of me

Strive to clean so as to see

And not let the dust gather to be

Oh Charioteer

What is here?

You see the sick, old, dying and wisdom

For the Fourth I'd give all my kingdom

There's got to be a way.

Will I die, will I cry

Will I suffer, what words shall I pick to say?

Will I love, will I hate

In between there's got to be a way

Will I grow old, shall I break the mold

And follow the Buddha?

Am I wrong?

The coin toss always ends up Sunyata

I'm sick of all your religion

That's not infinite wisdom

Maybe here in material needs

I'll find the answer to my dreams

Oh Charioteer

What is here?

Maybe here in this mountain stream

I'll find the answers to my dreams

Yeah.

There's got to be a way

Will I die, will I cry

Will I suffer, what words shall I pick to say?

Will I love, will I hate

In between there's got to be a way

Will I grow old, shall I break the mold

And follow the Buddha?

Am I wrong?

The coin toss always ends up Sunyata