[Verse 1: Peter Sinfield]

Still I wonder how it is to be a stream

From a dark well constant flowing

Winding seawards over ancient mossy wheels

Yet feel no need of knowing?

Still I wonder how it is to be a tree

Circled servant to the seasons

Only drink on sky and rake the winter wind

And need no seal of reasons?

[Chorus: Peter Sinfield & Greg Lake]

Still, I wonder why I wonder why I'm here

All my words just the shaft of my flail

As I race o'er this beautiful sphere

Like a dog who is chasing his

Tailors and tinkers, princes and Incas

Sailors and sinkers, before me

And like me

[Verse 2: Peter Sinfield]

Still I wonder how it is to be a bird

Singing each dawns sweet effusions;

Flying far away when all the world has stirred

Yet seek no vain conclusions

[Chorus: Peter Sinfield & Greg Lake]

Still, I wonder if I passed some time ago

As a bird, or a stream, or a tree?

To mount up high you first must sink down low

Like the changeable tides of the

Caesars and Pharoahs, prophets and heroes

Poets and hobos, before me

And after me

All the painters and dancers, mountainside chancers

Merchants and gamblers, bankers and ramblers

Winners and losers, angels and boozers

Beatles and Bolans, raindrops and oceans

Kings, pawns and deacons, fainthearts and beacons

Caesars and Pharoahs, prophets and heroes

Poets and hobos, before me

And after me