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Flying high ether, adrenachrome and reefer, smiling like a dog with a Treacher Collin's face.
Me, I feel fantastic, but I smell like burning plastic. And my mind is as elastic as the fabric of space.

I’m far too weird to live, but I ain’t too rare to die.
Take a good, hard look, you can see it in my bloodshot eyes.

Me, I’m seeing clearly- just ask Timothy Leary- except for HPPD which gives me the spooks.
If I go psychotic at least it’d be exotic (or ironic) tell me, what would Hunter Thompson do?

I’m looking to live, ‘cause I know I’m going to die.
Take a good, hard look you can see it in my dilated eyes.

They call me Doctor Sunshine.
I’ll make you feel just fine.
I’ll write you a prescription for some Sunshine in your life.

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A Verbal Equinox New Jersey

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