She's there, a song on the wind
The boys mind the bags
While lesbians and straight girls danceKiss your boyfriends and keep the women happyMinor melodies are warped in dominanceAnd two black singers under pressure
You’re too young to sit still, he saysWith two guitars but he doesn’t sing, chewingMrs Santana on the drums with the AfroFingers like noodles on guitarShe’s open mouthed, sticks a whirrWhile her hair jumps to the roll of the drum
Smooth and soft, now claps encourageUnrelenting sticks on canvasHard and knockingHer hair out of fashionRhythm with a style of its ownSkinny with diamantes, beltedAnd gone.‘Witness the getting togetherWhen things are at their worstThe best happensCast off your skin of religionBe a familySince Woodstock we are oneHeal our fears with love, twisted simplicityAnd choose between love, or fear, or fire’.
Guitar’s extension of pleasureStroke it, slide and strokeThe garden of destinyWith light and loveAnd sunshine so long.
While lesbians and straight girls danceKiss your boyfriends and keep the women happyMinor melodies are warped in dominanceAnd two black singers under pressure
You’re too young to sit still, he saysWith two guitars but he doesn’t sing, chewingMrs Santana on the drums with the AfroFingers like noodles on guitarShe’s open mouthed, sticks a whirrWhile her hair jumps to the roll of the drum
Smooth and soft, now claps encourageUnrelenting sticks on canvasHard and knockingHer hair out of fashionRhythm with a style of its ownSkinny with diamantes, beltedAnd gone.‘Witness the getting togetherWhen things are at their worstThe best happensCast off your skin of religionBe a familySince Woodstock we are oneHeal our fears with love, twisted simplicityAnd choose between love, or fear, or fire’.
Guitar’s extension of pleasureStroke it, slide and strokeThe garden of destinyWith light and loveAnd sunshine so long.
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