Kapsized

Sack Santa on my broomstick, the mag's eye
My banana boat, kapsized, from the shroom capsized (Oh!)
Thievin' magpie out the slag mine
Underground drip stalagmite
Shine but trooper mag lights (Hey)
I feel better and look sicker
Same story but the book bigger
Grind the tree like a woodchipper
My era Philly guts, and block cyphers
Gas bubble, the sock liner
Tongue corded in black violet
Hold the L, let the witch spire
Smoke circles, like a strip tire
Open ladders on stratus clouds, I'm a bit higher
Rotisserie of pig, spitfire
Janitor swift with tinnitus, a sick writer
They don't think like me
Roxy got me, scratchin' off my skin like V
This gore cinema, from the sticks out of a wizard hut
From Catskill Park to Ithica
I'm bathed Norwich in blood, German town
Blow a windom dust
Orange County to Binghamton (Huh?)
You duck slither and stick cops
This hamlet lick lots
Further up north with pilgrimage for the great blocks (Yeah)
And squeeze bottle, the rain drops
Liquid windows left pseudo-hippies brainwashed...

Outro:

- (?) his head off about the forces of evil, they're out to get him he said, that he said, the kinda thing that happens to people's minds sometimes, or when the police started checkin', they found three bodies
- The administrator mild electric shock stimulants, and this little (?)dog here, something that, I'll show ya, it has one red wall and a light switch, you can choose to turn the light on or off, or either face the red wall or turn his back to it, when you had to put him under sedation, since then he has been a complete melancholic
- If he's fakin' could he possibly get away with it?
- Please be aware that conjectures about illness and the human mind are the province of the psychiatrist