The Ghost Song

Awake.Shake dreams from your hairMy pretty child, my sweet one.Choose the day and choose the sign of your dayThe day's divinityFirst thing you see.

A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moonCouples naked race down by it's quiet sideAnd we laugh like soft, mad childrenSmug in the wooly cotton brains of infancyThe music and voices are all around us.

Choose they croon the ancient onesThe time has come againChoose now, they croonBeneath the moonBeside an ancient lake

Enter again the sweet forestEnter the hot dreamCome with usEverything is broken up and dances.

Indians scattered,On dawn's highway bleedingGhosts crowd the young child's,Fragile eggshell mind

We have assembled inside,This ancient and insane theaterTo propagate our lust for life,And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.

The barns have stormedThe windows kept,And only one of all the restTo dance and save usFrom the divine mockery of words,Music inflames temperament.

Ooh great creator of beingGrant us one more hour,To perform our artAnd perfect our lives.

We need great golden copulations,

When the true kings murderersAre allowed to roam free,A thousand magicians arise in the landWhere are the feast we are promised?