Let's go 'n' listen to Harlem's quarter Manhattan
Let us brew tea in the open-air markets of Amman
Then go 'n' swim in the Sénégal for real; kudos
Let's see 'n' burn to Bombay under fire from Prometheus
Let's go 'n' scrape the sky underneath Kyoto
Let's go 'n' feel Rio beat the heart of Janeiro
Then lift our eyes up to the roof of the Sistine Chapel
Yet to lift our glasses at the Pushkin Café
Ah well, 'n' it's our great good fortune
Some thousands of colours, all being human
Matching and mixing our maths
All at the crossing of paths
Y'all are the stars, the cosmos we are
Y'all are one silicate, we are desert dust
You one thousand paper leaves me, I am the scribe
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You are all the horizon, and we are the ocean
You all are seasons 'n' us the terrain
You're the shoreline whilst I am the foaming rise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
One'll tell that dead poets bear no banners, no flags
Another hold as many holidays as heroes brag
Well knowing that infants are the guardians of the soul
And as many are the queens as women we'll know
We'll confirm that confluences make jolly journeys,
Seeing no-one other than who shares as virtuous
Hear us the singing of the music of the orient
Then we'll know to give it the best of all it meant
Ah well, 'n' it's our great good fortune
Some thousands of colours, all being human
Matching and mixing our maths
All at the crossing of paths
Y'all are the stars, the cosmos we are
Y'all are one silicate, we are desert dust
You one thousand paper leaves me, I am the scribe
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You are all the horizon, and we are the ocean
You all are seasons 'n' us the terrain
You are the shoreline whilst I'm the foaming rise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Y'all are the stars, the cosmos we are
Y'all are one silicate, we are desert dust
You one thousand paper leaves me, I am the scribe
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You are all the horizon, and we are the ocean
You all are seasons 'n' us the terrain
You are the shoreline whilst I'm the foaming rise
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh