you have to take my hand
follow me down the road//
it doesn’t have to be made of yellow bricks if you don’t want it to be
‘cause we’re not chasing the wizard,
he’s chasing us//
trying to bottle our kisses and
ground the harmonies we sing
into powders for his garden
(…'cause everyone knows
love makes flowers grow)//
we don’t need emerald cities
we’d rather slide into the ocean
on ghanian gold
spell our names in
semi-precious stonedust
on the sides of volcanoes
to make the Goddess giggle
(c) 2009 l.a.m.
