flying through a dark prismatic tunnel on a carousel, the earth is
turning and you know it very well, your mind is reeling lika ten
helicopters wheeling and youre gonna hit the ceiling lika a mallet on
a bell, hey, blenderhead, theyre starting to ask questions, your
transgressions ar a danger flashing sign, challenge conventions and
radiate your splendor and feel those flywheels curn your blenderhead,
tally up the gleaming ventured on a wishing well, each shining trinket
h as a story it can tell, your moments pining like those tales all
intertwining can become the rusted lining of a deep neglected shell,
hey, blenderhead, you ask so many questions, your confusions a life-
affirming sign, break from tradition and carry on with valor and feel
those flywheels churn you blenderhead
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