Week 19
on Anthony Lovat in Bolgatanga (Ghana), Unknown, 34 days ago
Drift away to another world,Bathe in the feeling you unfurled.Step out of your situation.Be part of the bohemian global nation.Subvert and tread a risky roadFor our world will turn all the more sweetly.Convert from the conventional loadAnd you’ll see yourself more completely.Oh give me peace, money, fame, food, water, whisky, shelter, power, children, sex and happiness.I know you’re lying when you say that I’m wrongBut I lack the knack and can’t exactly go back.Crack the whip and write the songTen years too late - I’ve left it too long.Life ends at thirty now I’m living a dream,Don’t wake me up if you know what I mean.My queen is growing an heir to my throneMiles away on the end of my phone.Cross mountains and deserts and seas open wide,I’d fly through the sky to be by her sideBut I’m fighting a battle we know must be wonAgainst forces of philistines who want nothing done -Who fail to see how no one’s aboveOne children, one people, one world, one love.Defenders of privilege won’t compromise.They’ll watch as yet another baby dies,Or worse they’ll turn and avert their eyes -Teaching their own precious offspring their lies.Now I’m called like Abraham, knife in hand,To offer libation for grains of sandAnd stars of the sky and a promised land.Let it pass me by - don’t deal this hand.The chalice is overflowing with wine,The blood of the masses mingling with mine.I’ll drink long and deep to keep the memoryOf a refugee born into poverty -My child, fleeing the front lineOf a fight that’ll last to the end of time.So sleep, little one, close your eyes tight,You’ll wake soon enough to all that’s in sight,This stinking unjust world - you’ll seeThis nepotistic philosophy.Rebel, little one, be good against bad,They’ll call you crazy, call you mad.When I’m withered and old and you’re young and freeKnow there’s no sweet fruit on the money tree.