Circus Buddah
Hallelujah, Buddha wears a pink bow in his hair
The circus master demands a bit of flair
The crowd is going crazy, he sells his soul
under cover of a sugar candy stall
In a blazing ring of fire he banishes the bull
The mob is on its knees, on the verge before a mule
of a conversion charismatic, oh, what a show
CHORUS:
God is in the drama, the devil’s in the show
Our saviour’s in the private sector taking the final blow
Heaven is on sale in isle number three
Between a ‘67 pinotage and a single malt whisky
Hallelujah, Hermes wears a poignant frown
A cloak of symbiosis, a pretty gown
He smells of dead roses and paints red the town
Wearing nothing but a sugar-coated thorny crown
On big screens in living rooms the bell doth toll
From musty leather couches the vacuum tells
But the patriarch is caught up in a thrilling action scene
wherein daunting devils triumph and gods remain unseen
BRIDGE:
I will take as blessing the fruits of your failure
as you move closer to the sun
I will count myself lucky immortalized in wax
dripping from your wings and running from your back
As we package the love and bind it in leather
sell it for a sixpence and argue over whether
it should be coffee table reading or hallowed reverie
undecided over what’s for sale for free
CHORUS
Teken in op LitNet se gratis weeklikse nuusbrief. | Sign up for LitNet's free weekly newsletter.