The Atoll

Albin (cont.)
Please beat out time on this sad old paint tin
Employ the wooden spoon as it inspires
When Spirit Legba mounts me digs in spurs
As if I was a giant sea horse Ill rear
And channel forth my capuchin monk dad
Giacomo
That I can do while you continue being
Possessed by whoever finely tunes your trance
Silvio
I clap your kooky congo conga left
I snap your ritzy rugged rumba right
Albin
I have informed your body flesh and blood
Dear Albin youre by ancestor possessed
By me instead of your dad whos enjoying
His well earned smoko let me do the chores