Everything that you are   That you'd like to be   Will come in three, my friend   Times thine inequity   The flutes of the chi   Will sound again, my friend      Wrap yourself up in gold   The fruits of the old   Are ripe to be told, my friend   For, it's not what you are   How you've come to be   All this will end and begin again      Everything that you are   That you'd like to be   Will come in three, my friend   Times thine inequity   The flutes of the chi   Will sound again, my friend