What must it be like not be led?
To fly, to soar
Or slip in soft mud ahead..
Can we ever know the right
To make our own mistakes, to be
Judged only in hindsight,
Audacious in our glory,
Outrageous in our errors
That day will come, I know that now
(But do not ask me why or how)
And if I’ve gone, do let me know
I shall ever be connected, wherever I go
And raise the bottle to your lips
On a hot day, warm water too is bliss,
Do not doubt its moistening power,
In the desert blooms a passion flower.
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