It’s quiet on my floor Except for the gospel ladies Just the smell of some wicked candles Makes me think into the road ascending They wear light-rimmed hats and joyful smiles Who loved to run up the street branch And in the middle it’s a puddle of water Wind of faithful voices
Your cat is a friendly brother Who’d offer his heart with allegiance And if he could talk we’d be best friends The only friend he has is his food bowl And he bites away at your book hand For the commendable attention you give him And you cuddle for a half an hour Until he dreams about his food bowl
I’ll leave you in my heart Six or seven later I’m still very very happy I’m still writing songs I can’t play out But my heaven is all around me And there’s Zulu in my body Have I eaten all the very good dates now? Is our night worth contemplating?