And sold to the dream of international stardom
Though the son of a violinist
He was the property of the Maosits
Grew from the land of the Rising Sun
A thread from the fabric of Sichuan
Alone, he played some for the applause
Of the people in the mirror
Sad tunes
From bamboo flute
Melodies, a thousand years old
Reawaken by this lonesome soul
And when demons lay siege
On his sleep
He would climb to the moon
On the wings of soaring tunes
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