The crystal house, and the man
with the tinfoil hat, a cat,
sitting out on the inexistent window,
a metaphor of the times
we live, left bereft, of theft,
no soul magic around,
no vibration, the sound
of the music expanding
our horizon, no reason
to listen to the common sense
incense, voodoo with Baloo,
instead of looking for
the bare necessities.
The rumble in the jungle
is taking all of our time.
Time of my life, the knife
no longer cuts the coconuts,
my day is full of buts,
of whys, but when and where,
that I don't care,
Here and now, reap what you sow
the wow of a simple life,
bring back the knife,
the sword, the shield, no yield,
my mild day is now away.
And I still feel
that I forgot something important
along the way.
You don't say!
Hey!