3am at a bar in France
It’s three in the morning and my vision is clearing,
I see life as a stage and the dancers are stripping,
The sets and the clothes are designed to mask something,
Or we’d crawl on our bellies and entwine ourselves, thrusting
Life is a dance,
Life is sexual,
And the lives we design are designed to miss this
Disguise our designs behind boundaries of words
Made by politicians whose world we all serve.
A man in a tie craving ‘power’ is a joke
A stupid, ignorant mane trying to dominate the globe
But locally men and women they dance,
Feeling raw sexual power in the space of a glance,
What brought us here but eons of desire?
Before man claimed the world through ‘advancement’ of fire,
So please, woman, claw back, before it’s too late
Grab a man by the balls and tell him it was great.
Strip the monkeys of power; send the mePhones to Mars,
Burn all the money and crash all the cars,
Dance naked at midnight,
Make love all the day,
Tell Adam, he’s had ‘em, tell him to get out of the way,
Accept the divine for too complex a beast,
To be able to talk with any kind of priest,
Show us the intrinsic beauty of woman,
Use the power of your worth,
And show us rebirth.
(2003)
Written in the small hours in a French bar. I felt like I understood how to balance the worldly excess of Yang to Yin...
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