Sherpa

In the dope of the pigment
In a poetic state of mind
In a flood of country
We lay down to kill some time

And we spoke languidly
Of the Northern Bee
And collecting dewdrops for tea
Underneath the cannonball tree

We were high,
We were sherpa high,
We conspired against old friends
We said we must be friends or die
And we've died a thousand times since then

And we spoke long, at length
Of the flight or flee
And of nothing in particularly
Underneath the cannonball tree

We spoke off-handedly
Of the new extremes
And of nothing in particularly
Underneath the cannonball tree