No one in particular really. But what if a smell or taste could bring something or someone back - really bring them back rather than just a memory of them. So an unrequited ghost voodoo love song. I think the idea comes from a few candomble sessions I attended in Brazil a while ago. Cigarettes and rum play a large part in the ceremony and woe betide anyone crossing their arms and legs. The guitar was quite tricky even though I made it up myself but finally think I nailed it - although this is just a rough recording.
She tastes like black tobacco
A taste, a kiss unlocks the mind
Puts skin and flesh upon the bones of time
The light plays tricks and dances on the floor
Then she is standing there once more
She tastes like black tobacco
black tobacco
Her heart is black tobacco
black tobacco
I'd watched and caught her eye sometimes
I've caught my breath as hers met mine
A smile that dances on those lips devine
She shakes her head, it's so unkind
She tastes like black tobacco
black tobacco
Her heart is black tobacco
black tobacco
Don't cross your arms before me child
Don't cross your heart and hope to die
We all fade through the rolling mists of time
But breath is blessed and love is blind
She tastes like black tobacco
black tobacco
Her heart is black tobacco
black tobacco
No comments:
Post a Comment