The song of ancestral treachery, paid back double, in arrears.

My sister? Man, she's a calamity... Impossible. I mean, I love her, I love her too much even, but she's wild. As a child, when she had her hair short, you couldn't tell she was a girl. When my dad decided he had to make a man out of me, he put me in a rugby team; she said she wanted to play too. There was this guy, everyone was afraid of him, we used to call him “Monti”, mountain, a huge fellow. I'm not sure what it was, I think he teased her about not having any breasts. She used to hide them mind you, with a piece of cloth she'd fix around her chest to make it look all flat. Nobody knows what she said to him that day, but that poor old bugger came back sobbing, a sorry sight. I only remember her shouting in his direction: “And next time you sneak into the girls' showers, I'll hunt you down!”

Last spring, we went free camping. She went ahead of me, three days in advance. She was travelling alone and arrived very late on the island. She had this heavy backpack on, and walked two hours in the middle of the night to find a beach and pitch a tent. By the time I got there, she had already regressed back to a primal state of being, I kid you not. Her hair was like an owl's nest. She spent hours in the lush and came back with creatures that she fed me with. Being a tomboy is fine, but, man, she's turned thirty! At least she looks like a girl now, she wears dresses sometimes. But even so, even when she puts them on, she goes for explorations and gets all dirty and rowdy again.

The song of ancestral treachery, paid back double, in arrears.

You haven't met her? She's over there, wearing jeans and a checked shirt.

You can't tell if she's alluring or aloof, can you? Should I introduce you? Oh, you're scared now... OK, I know. I'm going show you something, rather awesome. I'll get my guitar, play a song she likes. You wouldn't be able to guess that either, but she can dance.

What? You think she's pretty now? Look man, that's still my sister we're talking about. Hands off, or I'll hunt you down!

There he goes, the old fool, he fell for her. I tried to tell him she was poison, and now she's going to give me hell for being old-fashioned and all.

Dear Sister, each time we join forces I feel weak. Nowhere to hide from your preposterous mystique. Dear Sister, when did my song turn into your tears? I'll fill the barrel of your gun and shoot your fears. Dear Sister, Orion's plight shines in the night sky. Dear Sister, Orion's there to remind us that piercing a lover's trust, becomes the poison rotting us. Honour his name, teach your children what's true and false, I beg you, dear Sister, save them from us.