Frowning Atahuallpa (My Inca Love)
Sitting all alone, looking at the throne of the one I used to love
Sitting all alone, looking at the stone of my lovely inca love
The huntress stands, with peacock hands she'd take me to where she lie
She sighs so deep, it rocks the river of her stomach sky
The oval moon, it tans the faun who holds grapes for my love
Sitting all alone, sitting in the throne of my lovely inca love
hare krishna