Just like the clock’s hands spin around
The hearts of people wax and wane
If the thread of our recollections are wound
We become touched by the bindings
Just like the needle on a compass
We trace our back sights, which are moving forth
Those who walk The Shambhala Path
Mottled is their form
We wait in vain
We get lost, and doubt
We wait in vain
And want to seek salvation
We wait in vain
Oh Lord, where are you?
Simply tracing the footsteps of others
Like simply tracing the scriptures
We place our devotion to what we believe
Despite not knowing how the Buddha’s face look
Verbatim we copy his pose of prayers
We wait in vain
We are pathetic, pitiful
We wait in vain
And want to seek indoctrination
We wait in vain
Oh King, where are you?
It is only You who can be our scapegoat
We wait in vain
We get lost, and doubt
We wait in vain
And want to seek salvation
We wait in vain
Oh Lord, where are you?
Simply tracing the footsteps of others