Prospect hummer

It's quiet on my floor
Except for the gospel ladies
Just the smell of some wicked candles
Makes me think into the bowl of sanity
They wear light-rimmed hats and joyful smiles
Who loved to run up the street branch
And in the middle of it is a puddle of water
Wind of faithful voices
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Your cat is a friendly brother
Would offer his heart with allegience
And if he could talk we'd be best friends
The only friend he has is his food bowl
And he bites away at your book hand
For the commendable attention you give him
And you cuddle for a half an hour
Till he dreams about his food bowl
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

I'll leave you in my heart
Six or seven later
I'm still very, very hungry
I'm still writing songs
I can't play at all
But my heaven is all around me
And there's Zulu in my body
Have I eaten all the very good dates now?
Is our night worth contemplating?