In an old poem, in the lining of a double helix Only one switch of the sequence can remind if you wish Not from without, but from within, the spectrum turns to white True devotion, if you listen, is written in the wind Does desire rule the mental, turning truth into a fool? No time in silence, no time to listen, no eyes to see it through? Not from without, but from within, the spectrum turns to white True devotion, if you listen, is written in the wind Come up now, to the mountain, where the air is sweet It is there that the wind sings, the voice of wisdom speaks Not from without, but from within, the spectrum turns to white True devotion, if you listen, is written in the wind