I numb myself to kill the pain,
I kill myself to prove my fame,
Interrupt, I have myself to blame,
I think I'm gone, my thoughts insane.
So dance I must to plant my feet,
And run upon the swirling street,
Until I collapse inside your arms,
Imagination planting cosmic farms.
Landscapes sculpted, word and pen,
And I am in despair again,
My cigarette has lost its spark,
And I am writing in the dark.
The animals, they keep me calm,
A pig, a sheep, and ticking bomb,
A waddling duck, who gives a fuck,
And thunderstruck, the prancing buck.
Their stuffing falls upon the floor,
And down I go, my farm's at war,
Laughing, laughing, silent screams,
The animals, living out my dreams.
I ride to town, the prancing buck,
The sheep, the pig, and waddling duck,
All tag along to see the sights,
A priest administers last rites.
The bomb explodes, the feathers fly,
And I look the duck straight in the eye,
Should I forgive, or ring it's neck,
But then I think, oh what the heck.
It's just a game, I must remember,
October, March and in December,
Snow comes down and melts again,
And reminds me I am still not sane.
And thunderstruck, the prancing buck,
The waddling duck, who gives a fuck,
The pig, the sheep, and exploded bomb,
The animals, they keep me calm.
The cow, unsympathetic, pulls the alarm,
As pain burns down my cosmic farm,
While stars above look oh so bright,
And I have lost my mind tonight.