When my neurons conspire to direct my thoughts

Away from divorce and competitive sports

Back to the place where all rivers run to the sea

Then I shall be free

Yes I shall be free



On a see-saw in a strange land

The jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's hand

And the fiddlers played

And the planners plan what would be

On a back seat in a court room

Sat Molly Malone and Leopold Bloom

Until the police came down with a new broom

And swept them clean



Like Geronimo

Like Quinn the Eskimo

Like the Blackfoot

And like the Arapaho

Like Crazy Horse

I'll be the last one to lay down my gun



On the open road in a bar room

A pick up band plays a new tune

When the coloured girls sing

I feel my heart boom

When a new song hits the right note

When a clearing sky saves an old boat

When an insight strikes the mote

From mine own eye



Like Geronimo

Like Quinn the Eskimo

Like the Blackfoot

And like the Arapaho

Like Crazy Horse

I'll be the last one to lay down my gun



Just out of sight

Beyond the next range

I'll feel the heat of a flickering flame



On an African Plain by a thorn tree

My old friend Philippe is waiting for me

Que cera, cera

What ever will be will be

When a friend dies and the tears rise

From that deep well that never runs dry

And the women break their bracelets

And the men take their whisky outside



In a pied-a-terre on the rue St Denis

The red velvet curtain pulls back to reveal

The place where the dark side meets the angel in me

The angel in me



When my synapses pause in my quest for applause

When my ego lets go of my end of the bone

To focus instead on the love that is pr