| Well i sit inside my house, inside my room, inside my head, |
| And the tv’s sayin' somethin' but i never notice what it says, |
| cause i’m drifting through a dream, it seems the witch doctor’s stole the bed, |
| And he’s painting a newborn baby’s face while we play the reds. |
| And look at don quixote, pistol and a piano on his spread. |
| And the sky lights growin' vines, but this time the god, it’s never dead |
| So the headlines read «coffins coming home», you know they sent u.s. fed ex. |
| And, man, these visions bloom inside my room, inside my head |
| So come, step on inside |
| If you’re up for the ride, |
| Cause your sight has grown old and gray, |
| They all the follow the leader, |
| While she was leading, |
| And they never knew the way |
| And never judge a book by its cover, |
| And you don’t believe everything you’ve read |
| Well, that’s too, too many rules to fool the new independent heads, |
| They’re too busy reading this month’s magazine, |
| To know what to do and what to say |
| And, man, these vivid dreams aren’t all i see inside my head |
| So come, step on inside |
| If you’re up for the ride, |
| Cause your sight has grown old and gray, |
| They all the follow the leader, |
| While she was leading, |
| And they never knew the way |
| So, man, i leave that ladyfinger on the burner while you’re there |
| Cause i’m sitting at the table, under the hail of this candle chandelier. |
| Man, all our friends are floatin', there’s no ladders over here |
| And the lunar eclipse turn round and flip, but gravity’s the least of my fears. |