You're lying on the floor, screaming quiet. You've seen it all before.
Going out, but I don't have a name, speak to me. Let me be.
See it all, but nothing's the same. What I see is not real.
You're lying on the floor, living, dying, waiting for the daylight.
Flying out to examine my mind, step aside. Let me hide.
Still afraid of what I might find, I do believe in the trees.
Everybody's gone. It's so damn crowded, debating with the daylight.
A journey all your own--are you crazy, waiting for the past lives.
More Mushroom
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