The Dalai Lama’s candle
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1. I have a candle that was lit from the candle which was lit
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from a candle lit by the Dalai
Lama,
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it was a present from a
friend, a long-haired follower of Zen,
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who uses words like “groovy”,
“cool” and “kharma”.
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And though I’ve never met that
gentle priest from
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in the candlelight his courage
seems to shimmer.
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So I hope his small brave
flame will guide him home again,
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A - D
and that one day his long
exile will be over.
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2. Now I have a photograph copied from a photograph,
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from a photograph taken by my
mother,
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it’s of me and my Dad, and
it’s the only one I have,
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that shows the both of us
together.
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And I’m maybe nine or ten, and
I’m not looking at the lens,
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but at something far beyond
the photo’s borders,
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while behind me my Dad stands,
with his big work-roughened hands,
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- A - D
resting
lightly on my shoulders.
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3. In my garden there’s a rose, that’s a cutting from a rose
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planted many
years ago by my grandmother.
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It’s called the “Evening Star,
and it’s my favourite rose by far,
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to me it has a fragrance like
no other.
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For its scent, so sweet and
clear,
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takes me back down through the
years,
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when the story of my life was
still unwritten,
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and where, a blank and happy
page, safe and secure I played,
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amongst the
roses in my Grandmother’s garden.
+ Instrumental = verse 4
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4. Deep inside me there’s a soul that was born from a soul,
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born from the souls of all who
went before us,
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it’s a strong unbroken line that
stretches back through time,
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my life a tiny beat of it’s ancient chorus.
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That reaches from the past to
take me gently in its grasp,
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and turn me to the new day
that is dawning.
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It sings deep inside of me,
for who I am and may yet be,
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and of
living, of loving and belonging.
+ D - G - Em - A - D + repeat verse 1
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Yes, I hope his small brave flame will guide
him home again,
A
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and that one day his long
exile will be over.
(orig. = capo 2nd) (Eric Bogle)