Climb out your windows children coach is set to go For the open day at Roswell and the field trip to Guantanamo Take it from the cobra who spits upon the grave Of the man who played the blues upon its rightful charmer’s stage With every shruti so refined there’s a raga of your own And if there’s love where i’m going then i’ll be going home All you disciples that just don’t know where to look If you’re called upon by mellotrons then lay your hand down on my book Maybe we’re useless in the things that we create And so say we’ll surrender to salvation in some higher state Maybe i’ll sing peace salaam, shanti, shalom If there’s love where i’m going then i’ll be going home So climb down your drainpipes children on your merry way To the conference entitled ‘The West Has Had Its Day’ Take it from the singing larks and the nightingales of May Who survey their own horizons and the harvest is their cabaret Swooping onto pastures new when every seed is sewn singing If there’s love where i’m going then i’ll be going home