The sky and the mountains were boiling some clouds
Two drunken Brochers were talking too loud
The charis, Manali, the Old Monk and the grass
There a jewel in my life I never could let pass
It was forty degrees on the day we came down
Out of the mountains into Pokhara town
The hemp in the hedgerow was at least ten feet tall
Seemed like heaven and earth weren’t that distant at all
So we tore through the dope and we necked all the food
Even two red eyed Brochers could see that this was good
The beasties we killed! but that was the plan
To leave lots of bodies in the wake of the white man
There was Dirty Harry and his chum in a cafe selling rum
He offered me some dope I mind – some Temple Ball, a special kind
Well, in a puff of smoke I left with Dirty Harry in his vest
I still recall his flip-flop dance, his three piece suit and yellow pants
Those Nepal nights were glory days and even through a red-eye haze
My mind slips back and forth through time across better days I know are mine
But never yet and ever still will dreary days with beauty fill
For one great moment in Nepal, I lost myself and found it all
Here and now are poles apart and in-between is where we start
Things we surely start to find can slowly start to change our minds
But travel down these roads we must on the paths of fear and trust
For one brief moment in Nepal, I found myself and lost it all
