My sleepy baby thinks
Beneath the ancient Sphinx
Those nasty, cruel pagans
Have buried female dragons.

My baby is a little
Crazy. And she litters
My short, agnostic mind
With nonsense of all kind.

My baby’s always sleepy,
Her dreams are now creeping
Inside the troubled ocean
Of my subconcious. “Kosha,”

She says, “We really must
Spend seven days in Giza;
There dive into the dust,
Instead of flyin’ to Pisa.”

I ask her, “Darling, why
The myths of days gone by
Are bothering tonight
Your melancholic heart?”

She goes, “My love, for I
Was promised to another…
Blame the bloody sly
Who once deceived my father.”

My baby’s maybe mental,
To me she’s sacramental,
For in this incarnation
I’m learning to be patient…



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