Are you craving a solution to political confusion?
Do you dream of revolution in your palaces of cloud?
Do you know how much we miss you (memory is mere illusion),
Or how many times your woman burns to call your name aloud?

Colour the academic with the spice of psychedelic,
Let Shankar play the sitar for a cavalcade of stars.
The present is the gift of Now, the past only a relic,
Let rich dudes shake their jewellery through the sunroofs of their cars.

Do you still dream of the vision of an end to all religion?
Are there quasars in your eyes as you relax and float downstream,
Imagining a world living in peace, without submission,
Can Yes still be the answer, for a man who dares to dream?

We are lost in introspection in a world of imperfection,
Waiting for the resurrection of the loved and left-behind,
We are wading through the vestige of a shimmering reflection
Of tomorrows never lying, in backwaters of the mind.
 
You were love’s emancipation, sweet desire’s anticipation,
You were heavenly elation deep in Yoko’s half-moon eyes.
No man of clay were you, but spun of rich imagination;
You’re heroic in the minds of fans, where all fantasy flies.
 
We are deep in contemplating an eternity of waiting,
We are skating on uncertainty through worlds of distant past;
Your muse whispered of love when hate’s protagonists were prating;
You went the way of everything too beautiful to last.


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