In a corner of Uganda,
there’s a place I left my heart,
where a lake without a bottom
reflect landscapes of pure art.
Full of twisting clear reflections
but no fish that call it home,
cold and crispy as a morning
even when the moon is low.
This was once a great volcano
roaring fire to the sky,
now it just reflects the morning
and the moon that’s floating high,
and the fish they introduced there
disappeared without a trace,
when you peer into the water
you just see your pale green face.
Then the water tempts you in there
like a cliff wants you to jump,
and you slide into the water
while your heart begins to thump.
There’s a feeling you could end there
with a bubble and a wave,
and yet somehow you must be there
while you feel alive and brave.