It's always Palm Sunday
In the palms along the beach
It's always the arrival of the king
Where the waves crowd in and bow
Where angelic death passes over us
And the Buddha comes ashore
All the way from Mars or the Azores
Go get me a turtle he shouts
So I can ride in with him
This glorious wind
Sweeping in from the south
This light that glitters in the palms
These hosannas of the gulls
This sting of salt in my mouth
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