And we walked the pagan streams. And searched for white horses on surrounding hills. We lived where dusk had meaning. And repaired to quiet sleep where noise abated. In touch with the silence. On Honey Street on Honey Street. What happened to a sense of wonder. On yonder hillside getting dim. Why didn't they leave us alone. Why couldn't we just be ourselves. We could dream and keep bees. And live on Honey Street. And we walked the pagan streams. In meditation and contemplation. And we didn't need anybody or anything. Then no concepts being free. And I wanna climb that hillside again with you. One more time. As the great great great great great great great. Being watches over. And we repair repair repair shhh repair shhh we repair. To Honey Street to Honey Street..