babalawo here i stand can you not see these trembling hands? my skin is white... but look beneath there lies my color in its sheath ignore this body then you'll see this thing that burns inside of me it needs a rail to travel on it needs to learn another song the one it's keening is so cold it's drained my heart and left me old you have the key i need, i think i know it's not in smoke or drink but rests on my relations with those things most folks consign to myth i've had some preparation time those altered states and dreams of mine... i've practised letting others drive this body while i'm still inside — i know i started at the end and now i must begin again babalawo here i stand can you not see these trembling hands?