Inspired by the Huichol indians and their peyote ceremonies. Hope you like it! |
The deafening quiet of the desert Belies the humble, screeching nature of the red men Searching, calling for the gods The tall green arms The tiny prickly footstools Call out in an embrace of death Begging them to join them in the forelife The hungry blistering heat of the sun Pushes them along Their quest for the little buttons The tiny, green patches The gods inaccesible bounty The gods speak Listen to the voices hum Listen to the crickets drum The amazing swirl of the dangerous, blue sand The torrent of gritty hurricanes Fly like an eagle Sway like the venison tree Jump through time and space The broken necks of fallen warriors The broken necks of sweating bottles of fire That hinder the growth of the indwelling pyre The men of water The ghosts made of white, pure cinnamon Listenin' And callin' out to the tweeting drums The fire crcklin' Breaking the bones laying on the ground Fields of maize are hangin' up in the sky above The spirits are all talkin' sayin' What the fuck is that sound The oil's raining into the underground The capuchin's nephew can't wipe himself clean Of the sticky clouds The armadillos all over the weeds Singin' haikus of secretive deeds Done under the cover of the day's highest light Tellin' where the infants hid all the bodies Spinnin' all around Playin' stringed instruments from beyond the stars Men in crazy hats All ridin' in cars The portal is open for the centurion dead The president's daughter sits naked in the red chair The men are all howlin' Singin' Screamin' Shriekin' Find their camps Kill them all |