We’re all pagans and shamans and clap your hands now we won’t stop the beat
We believe in divine healing and we hate to see that evening sun go down
We know when the sight of our women dressed in white each ritual night, is touching, hypnotizes
The animals blush and split for us as revival, as revealed to themselves
These are triumphant women.
Even Sister Fame hiding out in the alley turning tricks and singing verses from the undid scripture, is touching
Thank you jesus, thank you jesus, that you jesus, baby, is that you, she mutters up high between rocks and lace — his eagerness — it was all night long
Sometimes he’d interrupt a recording session to tell us about his early Motown days or expand on his views of Heaven and Hell
One time he was saying how important it was to love one’s father.
Do you love yours? I asked him
Why don’t you tell him
Why don’t you tell your father, he said
I will if you do
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