Inspiration, move me brightly, light the song with sense and color, hold away despair
Let there be songs to fill the air.
When I was just a little young boy, Papa said Son, you'll never get far, I'll tell you the reason if you want to know, 'cause child of mine, there isn't really very far to go.
Poised for flight, Wings spread bright, Spring from night into the Sun.
Sometimes we live no particular way but our own
But I would rather be with you, somewhere in San Francisco on a back porch in July, just looking up to Heaven, at this crescent in the sky