an ode to the feminine principle…
Ever wonder why the world always wants to know what you’re going to do?
What’s your name?
Where’d you come from?
Who’re you here with?
And what is it that you do?
They say where do you belong?
What is your proper place?
Let me fit you into this,
This small tight tiny place.
There’s a fog made of haze on these days wrapped in dreams, made of smog.
If you listen you can hear, chase the wind to where the sun burns it off.
I’m standing in the middle of the marketplace,
And there’s a thousand people standing all around.
All of them are talking all at once,
And none of them can hear a single sound.
I’m in the sun,
Hear the light,
Feel the love,
Smell the heat,
Taste the sweet.
Mother Earth underfoot
Feel the beat
Oh people in between.
I said I am where I belong,
I’m standing in the perfect place.
Bob must have just dropped his Honeybomb,
Cause there’s a sweet, sweet smell all over the place.