AWA

The Dust Sailor

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  • 2009.06.08
  • 3:51
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I am the dust sailor Drifting deep on the southern breeze. I smell the cold Welsh sinking sea Float down through the mirage heat of the south with me., I comb my way down beaches To the jetsom dry towns. In the grease dens Through the reefer haze you call With the smoke that pirouettes Down the harbour streets To the dust track down. I am the dust sailor, Drifting down through the south to you. I wander through The shuttered rooms Down every ravine street of the south for you. I sail the singing silence Of the desert simoons. I cannot hold you In my mermaid painted arms You are the smell of oranges And distant bells In the dust track morn I am the dust sailor, Lying deep in the mirage view, I sleep with you, I wake with you Down neath the golden skull of the southern moon. I see a day that stretches like a secret...unknown. From the bulls blood On the hot afternoon sand, To the cockerels crowing us From high blue dreams to the dust track down

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