A song that must be played at weddings, bar mitzvahs and maybe funerals. This is a song that just creeps its way into the air. A more catchy melody you’ll never hear or experience. This could have been one of the first hallucinogenic songs, predating Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit by at least 10 years. Maybe you’re crazy but you’re no imbecile. You’re blazing like a comet, hightailing it to the stars. You try to talk to yourself, but after the first few words the conversation is over. You’re fluttering and floating, nothing you can’t discover, even the hidden things, the deeper you go, the more you can grasp. Bending the throttle, climbing high and out of control where everything becomes a nebulous blur, nothing up here but your imagination. You could tear your own body to pieces and throw the bits everywhere. You’re fairly certain you have become some kind of biological mutation, you are no longer a mere mortal. You’re on the rim of the universe in the bright lights of the great millennium, nowhere to go but up. The sounds of violins, it’s buzzing in your ears, and it’s all in tune, in tune with your mercurial self. Sings the melodies with all the tonality and vibrations of the senses. All the organisations, everything that wants to grab at your feet and bring you down to earth.Īround the globe you skyrocket, through the labyrinth. Flying up through the veil, light as a feather, lingering awhile on the puffy vapours, far above the maddening crowd, the connoisseurs, the judges and cliques. Mirrored in your own dreams and experiencing a sense of wonder. You’re jetting out and making manoeuvres and winging it like an aviator. It’s just a hop skip and jump to cloud nine. You get high and you’re having a ball, everybody’s getting a charge out of it, come on let’s live a little. You’re the Bobbsey Twins, two minds thinking as one, and it’s marvellous and awesome. You’re tickled pink and walking on air, and there’s no end to space. Oil paint, cosmetics and greasepaint, frescoes with blue slapped on, and you’re singing like a canary. You get the mental picture, Utopia, and it’s painted blue. This song is zooming and whizzing and runs the course, it gets up to speed and barges into the sun, ricochets off the stars, smokes pipe dreams and blasts into cloud cuckoo land. Committing yourself too early can lead to disaster, but once you go, you go. Flying too high can be dangerous, one bad move leads to another, and that move is usually worse than the one before.
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