Young Lions - Adrian Belew

Hot tribal night

Underneath florescent skies

Bonfires rage strange

Wild waving shouting Picasso faces

In the guise of a lioness

The wind kisses her burning dress

You can fell her animal eyes

You can hear them cry

Be the jewel around my neck

Never a tear on my burning dress

Lying paralyzed

A brave prey who lays dying

And is surrounded by angry spirits

Hunters guns drums and elephants

Why is this night quiet

Filled with trees filled with eyes

As she prowls around my feet

She throws back her head dress and cries

Now you will be mine

Be my young lion

Why is this night quiet

Why the trees filled with eyes

As she prowls around my feet

She throws back her head dress and cries

Be my young lion