...And I dined with the deities who looked upon me with favor,
for my talents, my creativity
and we sat beneath the palms
in the warm afternoons and drank the wine
With Fitzgerald and Huxley
and they pawned the biting phrase from the tongues hot with blood
and drained their pens of bitter ink
Vainly reaching for the bottle full of empty Edens
Branded especially for the ones who had come with great expectations
to the perfumed halls of Allah, for their time in the sun

And we were stokin' the fires and oilin' up the machinery
Until the Gods found out we had ideas of our own...

----"Garden of Allah", Don Henley