Deep within the wilderness There is a building with a door If there's one thing you should do before you die, It’s walking through that door It's very small and hard to see You have to crawl through on your knees Important things you carry must be dropped Besides you won't need these Not in there Everything will show itself as nothing Behind the door Trees will not be trees And mountains won't be mountains Any more When you leave the building later on All will be just as before Mountains will be mountains And trees they will be trees once more (Well shake my core!) Nothing will have changed at all about you When you leave the door Except that when you walk Your feet will be six inches off the floor Still witness to the partial No longer its slave Standing in the sunlight While others watch their shadows in a cave You will have the wisdom To say nothing at all about the door You’ll answer direct questions That are put to you But nothing more And sanctimonious preachers like me We babble 'bout the door If you have the sense All this false zen you'll just ignore For sure It’s hard enough to find the fucking building, Never mind the door Even standing next to it The chance of seeing it is pretty poor 'Cos some mischievous pranksters Have painted mighty portals on the other side And some deluded madmen Have painted their own images Tall and wide There’s plenty of people queueing Trying to get through entrances of paint Debating while their waiting On how their choice of picture is less faint There's plenty of people doubting Wondering if there really is a door There's plenty of people shouting Don’t be a fool! Of course there is no door What are you looking for? Well, Some are simply shackled by their fears Afraid to know the score Sone of them had searched for years and years But only found a gaudy door Which they stood before And time it made them hungry Abandoning their fruitless post They had to leave Certain now the door was just a mare's nest Painted to deceive We Believed A handful make it round the back But most of them don't make the grade They cannot take the sunlight Eventually they head for shade For they have tried and failed To push and pull And force the bloody door But it will only open If you sit before it humbled to the core No goal to score Make mistake about it Without the change you '11 always be insane Living in a daydream Lost in abstract pictures in your brain There,is nothing to lose Except the head above your head The only point in living To die before your dead You’ve heard it said,
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Thanks
Tim
