Ride

I can’t get off how I’d like to get off so I’ll have to get off soft I can’t get loft how I’d like to get loft so I don’t get loft oft I want to face this thing that keeps me down Awash in a reservoir of doubt and fear I’m drowning, floundering, reaching around me Problems they hound me Monsters surround me But, somehow, strangely, they all seem to be A reflection, an image a picture of Me And I can’t get off how I’d like to get off so I’ll have to get off soft And I can’t get loft how I’d like to get loft so I don’t get loft oft I want to get high, so high, that I fly by arrows, missiles, and projectiles of inadequacy Shot from a thousand countries, a thousand guns, on a thousand ships all launched by a face that looks like Mine I want to get off, blowing my head on a mind bending plutonian type experience Snorkeling to worlds yet unknown all in the space of time that it takes to really know Myself I want to wiggle my toes in the periwinkle sea grass of freedom but I’m trapped in a psychological prison surrounded by windows and doors There are too many means of ingress and egress, there’s even a trap door constructed by Me So, after signing a waiver I’ll step through the door to the boardwalk of my soul, and ride the roller coaster to eternal happiness or damnation ride it until the wheels fall off but . . . If I can’t get off how I’d like to get off I’ll have to get off soft