LOW LOW LOW

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Low low low I go
In my train I travel
Riding down the tunnel
Into the world unknown
I blow my horn to announce my presence

Low low low I sink
In its strings Im tied
Swimming to its shore
I find myself on its island
With a heroe’s welcome

Low low low I fall
Stripping down my last will
Taking my sword for a toothpick
I sit in its chambers
With nothing but my heart.

Low low low I want
In this bed I will sleep
For I taste the grapes of pure genuity
I leave my soul to its directions
Low low low I stay for love.

The Haymaker ©2015

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Mchaymaker.com is the unique home of tales of African arts that seeks to expand the world’s view on it’s extraordinary nature.

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