"They call him a magic man"
"There's no such thing as..."
"As what, magic?"
"..."
And the coffin hit the banks in Burma
Mud on the feet of a white man, stranger
"I came in search of truth, can you help me?"
The two men sat awake, drinking alcohol
Fermented and brewed by hand and the locals watched
Flaking hut, the bamboo was broken, he wondered how
"They say he has the power to heal"
"And yet I don't believe you"
"Find him"
The trees were dusted and the Antelope were grazing
In the Kalahari I found my guide, we smoked and died
By the fireside, I lied about the tide
He took my hand, I lost my stride
The Nile ran red and I awoke covered in sweat
Phantom structures of glass and brick, apparent not to I
A world of stars and the translucent eyes of a *******
The grinning dawn was mournful as we fell from barriers
The guards were boiled alive but their guns survived
And the California beaches were beckoning
I lay down on the road, calling out to Kerouac and receiving nothing but a jolt as the cars massaged my flailing back, and the monkeys were howling as a witch doctor calls
The small boy read the lacquered book with glistening nails adorned
The tide was vile, washed him away with a sly smile
A great **** at the doors of a church, masks discarded
The preacher man watched with a snarl, upturned lip
Gripped by fear the small boy clawed his way to the banks
He banked on life
Gambled with a choice and won
Burmese man-child, hashish in the pipe
Tell me of the story of your life
The bamboo pipes
A lighter falling through space, as the astronaut suffocates
Nicotine daze and a greyish haze, through the eternal maze
And we lay awake for days and days
A tank would fall from the mountain top
Crushing just one daffodil
and the bamboo mourned
Muddy river ran dry
Today, the day I die