Lotus Sabot
the flower and peasant ripples.
Lotus Sabot,
flower at midnight hour ripples
between reality and the dream.
Flowing in the lake is a leaf.
Lotus Sabot.

Girl with baguette
and boy on the bike waltz
to Lotus et Sabot.

Between here and the city,
is a girl with a rooster,
and a girl with a bike.
Riding on the sandunes, he waits.
While the girl brings a rooster,
and make an animal sacrifice.
For they shall be more like the rooster
And not the hen.
She doesn’t want to live,
This boring country life again.

Lotus Sabot
the flower and peasant ripples.
Lotus Sabot,
flower at midnight hour ripples
between reality and the dream.
Flowing in the lake is a leaf.
Lotus Sabot.

Girl with baguette
and boy on the bike waltz
to Lotus et Sabot.

Instead they fly their Lotus flower,
and their Rooster high,
For the glory of chicken pie.
One not made by the farm,
but by the barracks,
of another man’s war.

And there in distance,
Is a large flash of light and alarms,
This was not the Lotus or the Sabot.