Head over heels in a sideway spiral

on borrowed wings and with senses so idle

high on the hopes ‘fore the chemical wedding

the promised state in the perfect setting

praying to the beat-craving to be real

I’m right (x3),I’m wrong



so he said ‘cause so he’d read

and your delusions are mine instead

convincing smiles will feed the mind

a curse put on those left behind

your wizzard’s out on bail-the perfect trip’s on sale

I’m right (x3),I’m wrong



Spinning ‘round

sideways down

spinning ‘round....



when concentration comes at last

make shure to blame the highest caste

from way out in the skies

that made you realise.