In the land I like, sun shines down like a peach

I love to think of fuzzy hairs of fire swaying so

The shaman I saw yesterday told me simply, "Go"

So I calmly left you a teepee and went home without a noise

And the psychic's minds are sewing, but the gypsies' hands stay still

The worlds around them change and spin, and rain soaks their clothing

But one yells out, whispering, "It's all clearer to me now"

He dances in it, psychic's sewing words he's yet to say

And the bricks are catty-corner to the grease below them now

And every time I look at them, I wonder who laid them

But they've been here for ages, weather's touched these natural tiles

It's something I must leave behind and re-visit when I die

Oh

Para-ra-ra-ra

Ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

And what I've meant to say this time is bugs are coming now

It's after dark, they're closing in, it was humid out today

And one decides to try and make an entrance in my ear

Thinks my head is the bee hive and there the bounty will be found

Oh, bugs behaving badly, get 'em to the prison now

I tell you, yes, it is their fault, you should spit 'em from the sky

But if you have too kind a heart to cause these things to die

Then move on with my admiration trailing from behind

Bugs follow on like constellations frozen in the sky