Dance to the sun
A kiss to the earth
Embrace a stone
Come the small black book
Come the brandy cask
One strange disease
The well worded paper
Signed by the drunken
Hands of thieves
And suddenly
They were told to leave
As the snake uncoiled on a road
The length was eighty miles
Wagons' weary horses
Lead the feverish exiles
Barefoot in the early snow
On a ridge
Where they beheld their home
Coarse and barren
Not the haven
Promised by the Father
Jaksa Chula Harjo
Jaksa Chula Harjo
Jaksa Chula Harjo **
The Red Sticks first and
The Dancing Ghosts were
Pierced with arms of fire
And the weeping widows
Left could not avenge
So the Western Star manifest its will
Drove them clear into the Pacific O
Gone the way of flesh
Turned pale and died
By your god's decree
For he hated me
** Cherokee name for Andrew Jackson
The 7th president of the U.S.A.
Shards of glass cut through my gaze
broken streamers hanging at my legs
drunk and giddy full of fate
at the cabaret
smokey stares from the bar
do stray bottles tumble
I feel the misty spray
what a perfect, perfect day for the cabaret
from afar he sees
Venus rise overwhelmingly beautiful
he sighs the look of love was in her eyes
puts his hand upon her leg
looking closer his lust begins to fade
what a drag the queen did say.
could this be a dream I’m in? ( Fellini would be proud )
gluttony enfolds the scene
give them one last round ,
shining faces dance away
swinging skirts between the panted legs
kaleidescoping
then shassez in a blink the glasses fly
suddenly joy becomes a fight
there they tossed and turned a sight.