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