My Psychedelic World
My Psychedelic World
In the next room someone is winning prizes I have never once received,
I sit alone with my thoughts and with this old repeating theme I've never left or grieved,
Seven women occupy my mind like seven planets drifting lost in haze,
And peace and quiet are things I haven't found in all my nights and days.
In my psychedelic world variety gives me all my thrills and all my fire,
But the first grade teacher still haunts my sleep with her rules and her desire,
Flowers are red and leaves are green and there is no need to see them any other way,
And I grew up with that sentence nailed into my brain like a spike... and it froze me where I lay.
Why can't flowers be black or violet or transparent like a thought from deep inside,
Why can't the colors flow into each other like psychedelic ink on a blank and open tide,
Conformity is a room without windows where flowers die in the very same shade,
And I pound on its walls with my fists of verse... with no chances... no choices... no trade.
I lay out my winter clothes on the bed and dream of going somewhere far away,
But my women troubles stay in the next room and refuse to leave or fade or fray,
That loud couple keeps on winning prizes through the long and hollow night,
And I keep running down the road trying to loosen my load... trying to find the light.
My mind is a field of black and red and green and impossible flowers growing wild,
The first grade teacher shouts from her corner that flowers cannot be otherwise my child,
But in my psychedelic world flowers are whatever they want and grow however they know,
And this beautiful variety gives me all my thrills... and all my stars... and all my glow.
I sit alone while the world wins prizes in the rooms beside me and laughs out loud,
Seven thoughts race through my mind and none of them slow down or leave the crowd,
But my psychedelic flowers bloom in colors the teacher never thought to teach,
And I keep running... free... and alone... and colorful... and untamed... beyond her reach.
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