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Joseph's face was black as night
The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes
His path was marked by the stars in the southern hemisphere
And he walked his days under African skies
This is the story of how we begin to remember
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein
After the dream of falling and calling your name out
These are the roots of rhythm, and the roots of rhythm remain
In early memory
Mission music was ringing 'round my nursery door
I said take this child, Lord, from Tucson, Arizona
Give her the wings to fly through
Harmony, and she won't bother you no more
This is the story of how we begin to remember
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein
After the dream of falling and calling your name out
These are the roots of rhythm, and the roots of rhythm remain
Joseph's face was black as night
The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes
His path was marked by the stars in the southern hemisphere
And he walked his days under African skies
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