Marrakech from Bonita by Ben Shaw

Ages ago I met a ghost flying across the sea.
Lost in a rhyme rhythm sublime.
Do gods really speak?

Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices strong.
Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices long.

Echoing rain filling the frame, sinking low beneath
a curtain of clouds, deepening south.
Bones will not cease.

Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices strong.
Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices long.

The truth is aloud, wasted in the lie.
Prayers ring out, hastened lullaby.
Wave the ribbon to your heart’s delight.
All that’s given only you deny.

Phrasing of time steeps in the mind.
Colors won’t repeat.
Blink of an eye, scattering light before the golden seas.

Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices strong.
Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices long.
Wave the ribbon, a thousand voices gone.

• Americana
• Folk
• folk
• folk rock
• indie folk
• psychedelic
• psychedelic rock
• singer-songwriter
• Los Angeles