i have flown
to star-stained heights
on bend and battered wings
in search of
mythical kings
mythical kings
sure that everything of worth
is in the sky and not the earth
and i never learned
to make my way
down
down
down
where the iguanas play
i have ridden
comet tails
in search of magic rings
to conjure
mythical kings
mythical kings
singing scraps of angel-song
high is right and low is wrong
and i never taught
myself to give
down
down
down
where the iguanas live
astral walks i try to take
i sit and throw i ching
aesthetic bards
and tarot cards
are the cords
to which i cling
don't break my strings
(i wish you would)
or i will fall
(i wish i could
i wish i could
i wish i could)
curse the mind
that mounts the clouds
in search of mythical kings
and only
mystical things
mystical things
cry for the soul
that will not face
the body as an equal place
and i never learned
to touch for real
or feel the things
iguanas feel
down
down
down
where they play
teach me
teach me
teach me
reach me.
