For Tourist Woman
The itching is turning to fever and then to form
For Tourist Woman
Insecurities are bunk-pollen for the swarm
For the swarm, for the swarm

And vice-versa
The swarm, turning to fury captures a prisoner
Tourist Woman is unhappy
With the meager conditions they have given her
They have given her, they have given her
They have given her, they have given her

From Oxford to UCLA
To empoverished streets of a Bengali village
T.W. fights for nothing
Believes in nothing except an image
Except an image, except an image

The image in her mind is of vague origin
Of, mostly, western result
Somewhat pyramid, somewhat cross
Somewhat a mongrel cult
Mongrel cult, mongrel cult
Mongrel cult, mongrel cult
Like the old man
Who slept his life away
Romantics are doomed
(and that's a good thing)