Maya - The Incredible String Band

The dust of the rivers does murmur and weep

Hard and sharp laughter that cuts to the bone

Ah, but ever face within your face does show

Going gladly now to give himself his own

And twelve yellow willows shall fellow the shallows

Small waves and thunder be my pillow

Upon the gleaming water two swans that swim

And every place shall be my native home

The east gate like a fortress dissolve it away

The west gate like a prison O come break it down

Island I remember living here

Wandering beneath the empty skies

In time her hair grew long and swept the ground

And seven blackbirds carried it out behind

It bore the holy imprint of her mind

As green-foot slow she moved among the seasons

The great man, the great man, historians his memory

Artists his senses, thinkers his brain

Labourers his growth

Explorers his limbs

And soldiers his death each second

And mystics his rebirth each second