I know an old white man.
He's telling me much of his life.
He sees many ways to go,
But he just exists.

He will show the way he's found.
Warnings are useless, he'll be the crowned.

I know this old white man.
He has no time nor 'must' nor 'go'.
He builds horizons of shine
'Round the eternal woman.

He will show the way he's found.
Warnings are useless, he'll be the crowned.

Yesterday he left his home
To write up his philosophies.
Now I'm not sure if he's part of what we hold unthinkable.

He faces last reality,
Is suffering his old body,
Is still tempted to misunderstand
The world's attractions.

He will show the way he's found.
Warnings are useless, he'll be the crowned.