Sherpa

Me and the vivid girl

In our hammock to the stars

Staring into the fire before tv,

The remote-control's on mars

In the dope of the pigment,

In the poetic state of mind

In a flood of country

We lay down to kill some time

And we spoke languidly

Of the northern bee

And collecting dewdrops for tea

Underneath the cannonball tree

We were high,

We were sherpa-high,

We conspired against old friends

We said we must be friends or die

And we've died a thousand times

Since then

And we spoke long, at length

Of the fight or flee

And of nothing in particularly

Underneath the cannonball tree

We spoke off-handedly

Of new extremes

And of nothing in particularly

Underneath the cannonball tree

We're at the point

Where we love or hate it

We can write it down

And obliterate it

When we're at the point

When we neither love nor hate it

We can lay down

And obliterate it