Untitled in the Key of G

From Boulder to Dharmsala
Bangok to Walla Walla
my search took me to many a strange land

So imagine my surprise
when I caught my dakini's eyes
in a Wal-Mart in Mobile, Alabam

She said "My name is Holly
but my friends call me Kali"
and then she smiled at me from behind her dreads

With the courage I could muster
I decided I should trust her
but I wondered about those severed heads

She read me Ramana Maharshi
and recited Rumi to me in Farsi
she taught me yoga in her double wide

She loved incense and candles
and black label Jack Daniels
she wore a Colt .45 on her side

We made love like Shiva and Shakti
and damn, that little girl rocked me
and I wondered how long I'd been blind

She said "close your eyes and you'll see me"
and that moved Kundalini
and the serpent uncoiled up my spine

We taught each other the Dharma
as we burned up all of our karma
she was the finest woman I'd ever met in my life

We spent our days laughing like a mantra
and spent our nights lost in our tantra
but something told me I'd never call her my wife

One day we had our fortunes told
and we learned that only one of us would grow old
she smiled and said "don't worry babe 'cause it's you"

She said she felt she would be leaving soon
probably some time around the next full moon
and I knew right then and there what she was going to do

she always said it would be suicide
that would carry her to the other side
when she was ready for a different taste of bliss

She thanked me helping evolve her
and then she handed me that Colt revolver
and said "here you go I'll no longer need this"

I cried the day we prayed goodbye
and thanked her for teaching me to fly
and then I gave her what would be our final kiss

I imagine that she was humming Bob Marley
the day that she finally rode that Harley
right off the road out into the abyss