Voodoo

(Saturday evening)

A narrow path runs along the river, from the burial ground you might see it.
Leading to a temple of secrets, where they meet once a week to dance and feast.

Lula is dancing to the Voodoo drums.
Twisting, turning, round and round.

She is ready to receive the "LOA".
She is ready for the God.
This one is Damballah.

Voodoo.
Voodoo.
Voodoo.

Voodoo.
Voodoo.
Voodoo.

Total emptiness inside as Damballah gets ready for her ride.

Casting out from Lula's head, one of two souls that seems to be dead.
Traveling deep in a trance, Lula's legs are getting weak.

"The "LOA" has seized its horse".

Lula is not the one, not the one that's speaking now.
Lula is not the one, not the one that's lying down.

Drink, drink girl, drink the chicken's blood.
Drink, drink girl, drink and feed the God.

If this is all you think they do, you better think again.
'Cause there is so much more to Voodoo than meets the eye.

Voodoo.
Voodoo.
Voodoo.

Voodoo.
Voodoo.
Voodoo.

Human hair on waxen dolls, pins through their knees.
Pins through their little heads and through their bellies.
They're coming to get you, they're coming for you.
They're coming to get you, they're coming for you now.

Voodoo.
Voodoo.
Voodoo.

Voodoo.
Voodoo.
Voodoo.