To see the Desert Prince
at his seductive desert lair
where ships ride the hidden sands
that carve the lines of your palm.
Then you go to see the gypsy
for you need your future told,
to know who’s hand you will hold.
Though, who will be the sailor
that is drawn by your lonesome song?
But it seems you have forgotten,
I've heard it all along.
A Siren in our time,
and doesn't she look divine?
Doesn't her skin just shine?
And doesn’t her voice carry?
And my friend,
you would lose your compass too
if she got her song into you.
The waters offer land just when you need land,
and you offer me your hand to free yourself
from the carving of your palm.
Though your clouded mind wanders
and I still hear your song.