Don't be daunted by a man.
Or position that he hold
He too was once a child
And soon will grow old...
If he survive. If he survive.
Climb a hill. Reach the top
Only way's down, though he may want to keep
The souvenir of a crown.
Life's as fragile as an egg.
Cracks chipped in the shell
When the cracks break apart,
Life or death who can tell...
If they'll survive, if they'll survive.
Poor man fighting for a breath.
Each grasp is a strain.
Never owned anything
But he love the rain,
Just to survive. Just to survive.
I don't know what makes you laugh
Try me. See what I can do.
I don't know what makes you cry.
Ask me I'll pull you through.
But don't you know it's got to be a way within
my reach.
It's the least that you could do for me.
Pick me off a peach.
Narrator:Time passed and the children grew; but as they flowered,
they seemed to draw sustenance from Amalisa herself.
With each dream journey her body seemed weaker on their
return. It was as though she gave herself to her followers, and their lives
were fuelled by her energy.
Amalisa well ill and had to be confined to her parents'
cottage. Her home was often crowded with well-wishers, who would bring
her gifts and come to listen to her stories, or take part in her dreams.
Doctors came to try to heal Amalisa's body, but instead
they would fall under her spell. Her influence enabled them to perform
greater skill with their other patients; but none could cure or even diagnose
Amalisa's malaise.
Amalisa's fame grew and the streams of visitors became
bands of pilgrims, each wishing to grow at Amalisa's expense.
Her parents saw what was happening and tried to stop
her accepting so many visitors. Amalisa refused, for although the visitors
made her weaker, she insisted on seeing each one; for they could multiply
the energy which she gave and allow others to develop.
She grew weaker in body, but her spirit was strengthened
by the visits.
Martin went to Amalisa late one evening and sat with
her through the hours before dawn, when her body was at its lowest ebb.