The Dust Sailor - And Also the Trees

I am the dust sailor

Drifting deep on the southern breeze

I smell the cold

Welsh sinking sea

Float down through the mirage heat

Of the south with me.,

I comb my way down beaches

To the jetsom dry towns

In the grease dens

Through the reefer haze you call

With the smoke that pirouettes

Down the harbour streets

To the dust track down

I am the dust sailor

Drifting down through the south to you

I wander through

The shuttered rooms

Down every ravine street

Of the south for you

I sail the singing silence

Of the desert simoons

I cannot hold you

In my mermaid painted arms

You are the smell of oranges

And distant bells

In the dust track morn

I am the dust sailor

Lying deep in the mirage view

I sleep with you

I wake with you

Down neath the golden skull

Of the southern moon

I see a day that stretches

Like a secret… unknown

From the bulls blood

On the hot afternoon sand

To the cockerels crowing us

From high blue dreams

To the dust track down