I ran down the road, pants down to my knees, screaming please come help me that Canadian
shaman gave a little too much to me
and I m writing a novel, cause it s never been done before
First house that I saw, I wrote house up on the door, and told the people who lived
there you have to get out cause my reality is realer than yours
ya there s no time in the present. and there s a black dog on the bed
Went to the backyard, to burn my only clothes, and then the dog ran out he said you
can t turn nothing into nothing this would be no more
and I m no doctor, but that monkey might be right
and if he is, then I ll be walking him my whole life
Drove to Malibu, on a dune buggy with Neil, he said you re gonna have to drive me out on
the beach if you ever wanna write for real
and I said I m sorry, young man what was your name again?
Everywhere I go in West Hollywood, it s filled with people pretending they don t see the
actress and the actress wishing that they would
we could do ayawaska, baby if I wasn t holding all these drinks
Something bout the way, Violet whips her hair makes me empty my pockets, I m cutting the
corners, bumming twenties as if I was the mayor
I don t need any new friends, but I could really use something to do
so if you re up for it sometime, I swear you wouldn t have to be my muse
Heidegger and Sartre, drinking poppy tea, I could have sworn last night I passed out in
my van and now these guys are pouring one for me
I ll never leave the canyon, cause I m surrounded on all sides
by people writing novels, and living on amut rides
