Dips her hand in the deadly waters
You and me and the porter’s daughters
Blackwater, there were six of us, but now we are five
And the shorter of the porter’s daughters
Ooh, what to do not a sausage to do?
You and me and the porter’s daughters
And resign to be trapped on a leaf in a vine
Oh, we’re floating in the coastal waters
Ooh, what to do not a sausage to do?
Backwater, we’re drifting at the waterline
There was a senator from Ecuador who talked about a meteor
That crashed on a hill in the south of Peru
Dips her hand in the deadly waters
And was found by a conquistador
So it’s much more realistic to abandon such ballistics
Ooh, what to do in a tiny canoe?
Who took it to the emperor
Backwater, we’re sailing at the edges of time
He taught her, he taught her how to split and define
We’re all talking to keep the conversation alive
And the shorter of the porter’s daughters
You will find that their minds rarely move in a line
But if you study the logistics and heuristics of the mystics
Oh, we’re floating in the coastal waters
His daughter, was slated for becoming divine
And he passed it on to a Turkish guru
