Young Lions

Adrian Belew
Hot tribal night
underneath florescent skies
bonfires rage
strange wild waving shouting
Picasso faces
In the guise of a lioness
the wind kisses
her burning dress
you can fell her animal eyes
you can hear them cry
Be the jewel around my neck
never a tear on my burning dress
<Interlude>
Lying, paralyzed
a brave prey who lays dying
and is surrounded
by angry spirits
hunters, guns, drums
and elephants
Why is this night quiet
filled with trees
filled with eyes
as she prowls around my feet
she throws back
her head dress and cries
Now you will be mine
be my young lion
<Interlude>
Why is this night quiet
why the trees filled with eyes
as she prowls around my feet
she throws back
her head dress and cries
Be my young lion

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