Your convent-cloistered, cluttered mind
|
[Calls] out for me but I'm behind
|
You cannot see into your room
|
Whose perfumed depths sing songs of doom
|
|
But I am cold and cannot see
|
A way out of this mystery
|
|
Wild horses couldn't change your mind
|
Or help you up and let you find
|
That I am here cold or blind
|
That I have something left to find
|
|
But I am cold and cannot see
|
A way out of your mystery
|
|
An Ali Baba you would be
|
In search of treasure endlessly
|
And like some jewel you'ld comfort me
|
And in your showcase I would be
|
|
But I am cold and cannot see
|
A way out of your mystery
|
|
-----------------
|
So Far Behind
|
| Procol Harum |
