Seven Years in Tibet

«Are you OK?
You’ve been shot in the head
And I’m holding your brains,»
The old woman said
So I drink in the shadows of an evening sky
See nothing at all
The stars look so special
And the snow looks so old
The frail form is drifting
Beyond the yoga zone
Time to question the mountain: Why pigs can fly?
It’s nothing at all
I praise to you
Nothing ever goes away
I praise to you
Nothing ever goes
I praise to you
I praise to you
Nothing ever goes away
I praise to you
Nothing ever goes
I praise to you
Nothing ever goes away
I praise to you
Nothing ever goes, nothing ever goes
Nothing