On Life
It was evening again, almost night. We were sitting around the fire, all of us, even the men.
Usually they are out hunting during this time of day, because the animals, they say, lay down to rest and cool down their souls and are at peace at this time of day. Grandma says that this means that they are easy to hunt down as they are slower and slightly less alert, but I think it is nightfall, the time when things look slightly unreal and ghostly, that brings them close enough to the other side and that enables them to embrace death.
That day we were all here because the men had already brought home what we needed to live on for another week. So the women were making clothes out of animal skins, the men were making stone weapons and we, the children were free to play and to listen to the stories old Baba told. He told stories of brave and clever hunters. And he told of the time of ending. I had heard the story many times before, but that evening the sky was a particular shade of red, and I understood.
Click here for lyrics
On Life
When acid rains fell to the ground like starsand all the snakes and crocodiles retreated,
when men and women met to share their scars
as the noble warrior's heart had been defeated,
I knew that every time I closed my eyes
the world would fold itself back into night
and, like an ancient mariner, draw in the ties
that held it tightly fettered to the light.
That's when we gathered at the sacred spot
to say goodbye and kiss and hold our hands,
shed one last tear, prepare to cut the knot,
and finally lay down on hungry sands.
Oh, how the birds lamented us that day
that took our lives, that took our worlds away.
~ voice, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, mellotron, electric bass, drums ~
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