| Awake.
|
| Shake dreams from your hair
|
| My pretty child, my sweet one.
|
| Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
|
| The day’s divinity
|
| First thing you see.
|
| A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
|
| Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
|
| And we laugh like soft, mad children
|
| Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
|
| The music and voices are all around us.
|
| Choose they croon the ancient ones
|
| The time has come again
|
| Choose now, they croon
|
| Beneath the moon
|
| Beside an ancient lake
|
| Enter again the sweet forest
|
| Enter the hot dream
|
| Come with us
|
| Everything is broken up and dances.
|
| Indians scattered,
|
| On dawn’s highway bleeding
|
| Ghosts crowd the young child’s,
|
| Fragile eggshell mind
|
| We have assembled inside,
|
| This ancient and insane theater
|
| To propagate our lust for life,
|
| And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.
|
| The barns have stormed
|
| The windows kept,
|
| And only one of all the rest
|
| To dance and save us
|
| From the divine mockery of words,
|
| Music inflames temperament.
|
| Ooh great creator of being
|
| Grant us one more hour,
|
| To perform our art
|
| And perfect our lives.
|
| We need great golden copulations,
|
| When the true kings murderers
|
| Are allowed to roam free,
|
| A thousand magicians arise in the land
|
| Where are the feast we are promised? |