In The Heart of AfricaI have been to the heart of Africa,my words cannot explaine,the visions that I've seen,nor how to catch the rain.I've ridden upon an elephant,and smelled the orchid wild,placed a flower on the head,of a sleeping child.The earth was solid and grassy,the trees they do grow free,the sea was blue and glassy,with fish and all that be.While eating stems and rootberries,I had a vision true,that I was the great Madonna,and my love was you.We traveled through the air,flying above the ground,but I awoke in a thunderstorm,without you around.Someday I will go back to paradise,to sit under the big willow tree,to play upon the sitar,and together we will be.
In BubblelandThere was a princess, born fine and fair,golden, glossy, grew her hair,and oh, how fine she felt.Along the path to grown up world,she came upon a frog,he led her down the garden path,into a deep, deep bog.up to her knees, in mud so thick,she had to make ,a decision quick.She told the frog to leave her be,for on her way the prince to see,the frog was in despair,he would not give up,instead he bit her on the neck.a scar she bore,so off to war, with the frog of Tyre,He cried, he begged,and laid an egg,of course he was a lier.From the hole in her neck, came fairies,and never would it close,they teased and taunted her daily,haunted her dreams, I suppose.As the Princess grew older,more weary she became,her hair began to darken,her spirit much the same.She dragged a heavy burden,around her neck like a stone,she was bitter, and hateful,very much alone.she spoke in undertones,no music would she hear,she kept all to herself,not letting no one near.Soon old she became,still no one came,she dare not cry or worry,she brought it upon herself,she took a frog as companion,so she became an elf.The old Princess lives in Bubbleland,brewing cauldrons on a fire,with herbs and batwing potions,in sparkling attire.There's one ingrediant she waits for,found only in the bog,it's green and warty, and bitter,it's heart of lying frog.
