The Jungle

I did not sail the seas or fly on the wind

But I found the jungle and myself within

I found you before I found myself

But to the natives I looked like everyone else

Brown skin under a tropical sun in the Jungle

And then I heard the bass and felt the wind on my face

As it throbbed and rippled from an inland place

I found the sand and then my feet

And I followed the trail of repetetive beats

Into the drakness, in under the trees of the Jungle

The guitraræŠ¯ cries were like a flickering fire

And I saw the light before I opened my eyes

I would only find what I was looking for

As crawled beneath the brambles on the forest floor

I had been here many times before

Hear the voices cry and see the sparks fly

As before my eyes in the stinging smoke

A streaming beast is at the end of ist rope

At the end of fear, at the end of hope

Round and round, beyonf ist reach

Teh shadows flickered on the circling trees

The naives dance, naked and wild

Stamping their feet, and twirling their knives

No one knows whta I felt in my heart

As I rose to my feet and played my part in the Jungle

The bass is the love that I feel in my heart

The guitar you see is my learing tree

The drums are the sound that you heard from the start

They the are tools of the trade, of the craft and the art

But when will I sail across endless seas?

And what message will fly on the wind to me?

What will is see in the smoke and the sparks?

When , oh when, will I play my part in the Jungle?