When I swim in my music
a harmattan of colours
becomes an area of feeling
where a rainbow of feathers
peoples all space
dancing in my heart

Here I do not even know
what flowers pop out of my eye
I move
without even touching air

Johnny you take us out there
where we gasp silently
amidst a bombardment of sound
in the spell of the witchdoctor's son
where I cannot even ponder
how a witch and a doctor paradox
could be one entity

Your bass
Johnny pins nothing down. Your bass
rides on wave or height or rock
or depth or crevice of sound
to bathe us in music

And we are moved
where we cannot even
hear ourselves gasp