|
I scrub my blackened feet |
|
Scrape off the caked on grime of the street |
|
I wash my hands and face |
|
Of the Worldly soot that accumulate |
|
In the day-in day-out farcical strife |
|
In the humdrum of everyday life |
|
And I enter my home clean |
|
Step up to the hearth I've deemed my own |
|
I sit down on the bidet |
|
And shower my flower of the decay |
|
That sets in when she lets in a guest |
|
For recreation no creation, her slight protest |
|
And I enter my bed clean |
|
Lay down my head and dream of another world |
|
The desert springs to life |
|
The golden chaparral gives up her rights |
|
To poppy fields for miles |
|
And purple lupin lavender behind |
|
Another world |
|
Waking with the sun |
|
The poppy petals peel back to open |
|
And turn the hills orange |
|
To start another cycle of seasons |
|
Another world |
|
We dance as whooping cranes |
|
Who once again have found their lifetime mates |
|
We bound across the plains |
|
Roll down slopes, fill our white coats with stains |
|
Of another world |
|
We come to rest as one |
|
At the bottom of the hill, start to make love |
|
We lean against the earth |
|
Rocking back and forth and back and forth, back and forth |
|
Another world |
|
Under a wild sky setting sun |
|
We ride the waves towards something still to come |
|
Another world |
