Did you shoot yourself in the foot?

Hunger caves for no influence

Do you find your thoughts no good?

Your words passé and impotent?

Cuz you're all tied up

Takes more than a hand to be a saint

Does it hurt your lungs?

You drew a crude halo, you're not a saint

Cause it comes from the ground

A cosmic appetite

A weather feeling

And it comes from the ground

A kind of appetite

A weather feeling

Shalimar

Shalimar

Shalimar

A-sha-ma-li-ha