Her Hair

now available, recorded on laptop and video mic, in nairobi by malavika and barney

Hey man, can you tell me if I'm an XX, XY, or just X-rated?
And while you're at it would you let me know what to tattoo on the skin o' my skull?
Swallowing 42 handfuls of red pills didn't do my indecision a damn bit o' good.
All it did was mascara my third eye...
I can't decide if I wan't a 'fro or dreadlocks.
Mebbe they're all flogging the same dead horse
from which I'll make the glue to stick the soggy spaghetti on my bald head,
sprinkle some salt and pepper on my comb and run it through my do, don't I look sophisti-ma-cated?

Don't let me be Medea.
I'd rather be Medusa.
I can't escape from the
viciously visionary
delusions of grandeur
but if i'm to be a goddess
let me be the
one with the
snakes in her
hair.

The weight gone from my head makes my hips swing funny.
Funny how now doors are to heavy to hold open (ha, for anyone but myself).
Funny how now its harder to be Matahari.
Hurry up and grow, why don't you, so I can alter my ego,
dissolve it into the diversity of divinity manifest in li'l ole me...

Don't let me be Medea.
I'd rather be Medusa.
I can't escape from the
viciously visionary
delusions of grandeur
but if i'm to be a goddess
let me be the
one with the
snakes in her
hair.