I was borne by mother-earth naked before I was born by my mother on frozen seas with the seven winds blowing, I’m so younger then the son I’m also younger then the sun, in times before the pretty boat was won, only then the bonnie boat was one, and all the eternal summers where around you that day, no guru, no method, no teacher, juts you and I and nature, In the garden, all around you that day, as we sailed in to the misty.
Hark, ethereal, mythical, but not ethical, smell, see, but not steal, let your soul and spirit fly into the misty, and when you hear me coming home, you don’t have to fear it, just embrace it, clasp it to your bosom, as i rock your gypsy soul, just like way back in the days of old, then magnificently we will float, into the misty.
It’s too late to stop now.
