Last Song at Night

With your millions pounding grain
your orphan towns and citadels
and pyrotechnic animals
in the electric alley of Gods

With the smoky chapels
stacked sadly in your valleys
the ground that stumbles
finally to the sea

With the mourning songs I hear
over your first born rivers
in the ancient night coming
the faces of your ghosts

With our tired, tired hands,
you are the father we can never hold,
only push our sunburnt faces
into the cool, dark earth

With your oceans we know like death
and the tiny, dry acne
on which we live, by candlelight,
glad of idols and maize

With your feasting clowns
loving lonely in the same evening
we have lived in all our lives
like children of other children

With your music that moves us
in tears, dancing, fire
at the tips of every limb,
as we are your children too

I can't help falling in love with you