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The Preacher

Weird Tales from the Third Planet, Elepharmers, 2013

A voice calls me in a dream An ancient calling in the howling wind Pale grey dawn over the hills Outside my door the small town sleeps Hypnotized, I feel no scared I know it’s something that gotta be made The time has come, I have to leave I need no baggage for this trip Follow the path, the fathers speak to me Vertigo of shadows in the circle of their dance The Preacher speaks  in the Native Tongue He’ll never speak to an heart of stone Skin and bones, long white hair His eyes are black wells deep like hell He strains his arm, open his fist Five small bones he gives to me What is dream? And what is real? In this desert I make a deal. Falling in trance, the fathers dance with me Vertigo of shadows, of the ghost dancers Dance with the dead, holy smoke, beat of drums The preacher rise up, and drive me into the dance. On this higher plain he waited for me Alone in desert for 9 long years A lonely preacher in leather clothes A goatskin flask and a silver cross I’m drowning slowly in these sands Sky is changing, clouds run fast Heavy dark clouds are over me All words were spoken the seed was spread

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