The monkey lives, the monkey dies,
But for Rama, in the sky, he flies.
Hare Krsna, Hare Rama.
We are two blocks from the beach in Punta Negra, an incredible formation of rock and wind.
A thousand vacations homes dot the beach.
And many people sing and brawl, beer within their frequent reach.
Sun, wind, the ability in man (surfers who on their surf-boards stand),
Take even these wild ones, within the All Writer's hand.
Tomorrow we go to movie-make, at sunrise/sunset.
We pray to God,
To say the Ramayana,
So a million Sitas,
Revive their hope,
That Rama's service,
Will soon be within Their scope.