I didn´t have time as I burst through a cheftains house
Out onto the varanda where men in grass skirts greeted me
I was the savage
They both looked at me
tried with their accents to calm me
Their art and their magic didn´t throw me from the dream
They pointed to between hanging herbs
They told me to touch the vine of fourleaf clovers
I inquired into my veins own ambition
Luck a child´s idol the appeal was painted on my veins
I the savage queried if i might learn to cultivate
They sold me the book
The sacred charm and a necklace i´d never wear
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