Magura - Brazzaville

Take me to Magura

To while the years away

The tinkling of the cowbells

And smells of drying hay

The rainfall in the mountains

Will wash away my fears

And all the foolish things

That I’ve done throughout the years

I grew up in the city Not far from East L. A

With rows of dusty palm trees

And millions of freeways

Traffic jams and cholos

And perverts in the park

And teenage girls who sold

Their little bodies after dark

So take me to Magura

To while the years away

The tinkling of the cowbells

And smells of drying hay

The rainfall in the mountains

Will wash away my fears

And all the foolish things

That I’ve done throughout the years

I’ll plant a little garden

Take up astronomy

And search for supernovas

In neighboring galaxies

I’ll go to bed by midnight

And wake up with the dawn

And play my old guitar

While this sad world rolls along

So take me to Magura

To while the years away

The tinkling of the cowbells

And smells of drying hay

The rainfall in the mountains

Will wash away my fears

And all the foolish things

That I’ve done throughout the years