Santeria strikes and feasting mites, the girls fell asleep through their indigo nights. For adventures they’d pray as their dark curls lay to rest upon pillows fashioned from hay. Linking their worlds in shimmers of alizarin, as each iridescent molecule danced along with notes of tinariwen. On the hacienda they’d fear the rooster’s morning call, for it was their dreams where they found their very own arsenal. With weapons to battle the war that raged on in the sun, but for the others, they know no cruz de caravaca could save those responsible of the evil that had been spun.