The new born moon seems like a cradle, shining on the desert sand   Scent of sandalwood and jasmine, a goddess with a silver skin   I am painting all your flowers, I'm the shadow of your dream   Who changed your opium to money shiva calls your name,   Why don't you sleep?      You're not worth a passing glance, I'm the picture in your mind   Who can feel the wind blows gently sparkling dust over the land   A stone is not a stone until I tell you what it's supposed to be   Who changed your opium to money shiva calls again,   Why don't you sleep?      And all our dreams are rushing to the river   The river that has always flowed   When maya comes and sets our hearts on fire   Our dreams will show the way back home      Lighter than a tuft of feathers, dancing with the rays of light   Digging oceans with my fingers, patterns carved into the sky   The creation of the earth is in my sight which no one's seen before   Sparkles of awakening knowledge shiva calls your name,   Why don't you sleep?      And all our dreams are rushing to the river   The river that has always flowed   When maya comes and sets our hearts on fire      Frightened and weeping   I read my name on a tombstone in a graveyard I don't know   In another dimension sitting with a pale face   On the hill of the dead!   The clouds all painted pink   Me wrapped in white cotton, nobody can see me at all   The letters of my name, iridescent and melting in the sun      Unsatisfied and restless, seeking in wrong places   Wading through a sea of my desires   When I burned away my bonds   I knew that I could not remain the same!   I left a fragment of my soul   Knotted in a tree top as a present for the endless universe   My form is full of light   As I'm going to the woods to find myself again      All the good, all the bad   All the pleasure, all the pain   All the yearnings of the brave,   All the sun and all the rain      All the beauty, all the dirt   All the love and all the hate   All the laughing, all lamenting, the acceptance of our fate   All illusions that we have,   All our secret fairytales,   Are doomed to slow decay; are flowing down the stream.      So come and kiss my silver skin while I paint pictures in your mind