Mythical visions seeth
Kicking you in the teeth
Too many blows to the jaw
Not enough Love and Peace
Soul desire, my sole desire
Is that wherever one roams
one finds ones own oneness
with a two, a three and a four
Aptly named and forcibly baptised
Sweeping it all under the rug
Bald as an eagle, feathered and peckish
Clawing the oiled branch of freedom
Olives ripen in blistering sun
Pips an ant couldn’t pip at the post
Balloons that can’t be popped
Boo ya to the clowns in the back
Pips aint in it, runs at a tight clip
The slightest whiff of fear and they’re off
Past the penultimate roadsign
On to the Last Post
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