Under The Mushroom
Under the mushroom, clouds come and go, veiling the mountains that loom far below.
And tree trunks are waving hello in the breeze.
You could blow them right over with one big sneeze.
The whole landscape ripples and stretches the view
One minute so far away, then right next to you.
And time telescopes itself too, hours and minutes all run.
When it’s time for you to start work, the day is already done.
Under the mushroom, under the mushroom. Under the mushroom, under the mushroom.
Under the mushroom, the colours all blend: reds into blues into greens without end.
So nobody stops at red traffic lights nowadays
‘Cause red has gone purple and green has turned into grey.
It’s the same with your senses, they all re-arrange
So you’ll never feel anything else quite the same.
If you touch it, you can smell it; you listen if you want to feel.
You have no idea if what you experience is real.
Under the mushroom, our egos have died
So I am quite sure of what you’re feeling inside.
You don’t have to scream or to shout if you want to be heard,
We know what you mean without you saying a word.
We’ve all become as one in the communal mind
In a state where you can be punished for being unkind.
What hurts me will also hurt you, that’s how it must be
Bad acts I’ve done to you will come back to me.