Losing My Religion: Beds Are Burning

Music
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Totally sexual altar,
she guards my cargo
from bandits,

My God, that's me in
the corner, that's me
in the spotlight,
losing my religion.

You lie naked,
scattered on the
mattress, exhausted
from wandering through
my spotlight of fame.

You hear the echoes of
my ancient city where
caravans of veiled women
paused to trade with me,
each one of them guarding
my precious cargo of books,
beads, and feathers, from
bandits, on to the next
watering hole of women.

Stopping to drink from
their wells, gathering
sexuality for the journey,
they're all waiting for me,
beckoning me like a distant
star, even the pretty camel
driver of two millenia ago.

I am so thirsty for it,
lots of it, what a relief
to have seen you on the
red sandstone ledge,
waving to me after paying
your toll.

My God, that's me in
the corner, that's me in
the spotlight, losing my
religion, with you ancient
Petra, with fluent fingers.

My God, that's me in
the corner, that's me
in the spotlight, losing
my religion, reorganized
into cooperative venture.

When I'm thirsty, out of
water, you're a good place
to know.

My God, that's me in
the corner, that's me
in the spotlight, losing my
religion, lying naked on the
mattress, cord attached to
your canteen, lowering it in
to your hole, filling my mouth
to the brim before I strike out
across the flint-strewn sand.
Come with me and my camel
driver from two millenia ago,
on to the next watering hole
of women.

My God, that's me in
the corner, that's me
in the spotlight, losing
my religion ...


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater
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