Bokor

The island of st. menée (beach of the living dead)

Bokor
The fare is one dollar a ritual
The fare is one dollar a ritual
paid in advance
paid in advance

from the tall ships of old Europe, to the cruisers of today
they've always come, like sheep on display
wild dreams in the pitch black nights, the fever in the blood
makes you remember the feel of the red African soil
forgive me for walking alone,

forgive me for walking alone,
out in the bush,l in the outskirts of the city
among the slum shacks where the bright love reigns

On through the verdure
I am
my own shadow, alone in the crowd
down on the shore

empty hotels above the sand, like tombstones
love is in the chicken blood spilled on earthen floors
in the heaving breasts of Our Lady of the Dead dancing
forgive me for walking alone

On through the verdure
I am
my own shadow, alone in the crowd
down on the shore
Lost in the undergrowth
I am
in the darkness now, one in the crowd
down on the shore
rejoicing

(I am love withering)
Dark shapes move in the shantytown
(I am grace in death)
like fish in the deep gloom of the ocean
(I am the wings of the dove)
The drummer boy and his army moves
(I am riddles and joy)
adrift in the night along the shoreline

embers and clay
ashes burnt gray
keep your mouth shut
enter the hut

touvhing her skin
bright love begins
nothing is sin
the snake lives within

home

The fare is one body a ritual
The fare is one body a ritual
paid in advance
paid in advance

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