Hey there Mr. Natural
With beady eyes, long flowing beard
How’d you get to be so weird?
Is it as bad as we’ve all feared?
Hey there Natch’, where’s your stash?
If I share mine, can I have half?
Perhaps there’s another path?
Nah.
‘Turally, we’re all free
To be what we’re gonna be
So tell me Mr. Natural, what’s it all mean?
“It don’t mean ****, young man.”

The psychedelic outlaw had class
He had a kaleidoscope bow-tie
Accentuated with brass
His custom tailor three-piece suit was white
But now no more
For the swirls of patterns and colours
Would send him down in lore
His cowboy hat was paisley
His six-shooters painted day glow
And the guise he wore
Said nothing more
Then, “Hell, I’m ready to go”
For the pearly gates
That some await
Will be dipped in a neon glow
And his favorite band will be playing
It'll be one helluva show.

Mr. Bojangles,
Contemplates the angles.
Modern minds infinitely entangle
Simple strings and fluid streams of thoughts
Are getting ******* in knots
Not in a naughty way, but in a party state
Where people get to tell the time to clocks
Skipping rocks
Across the surface tension, in your office
Chip your dips in the swivel chair in the corner there
Please
Excuse me
While I try to explain to these birds why they’re not free
On a wing and a prayer flag TV set
And I always forget to mention what’s relevant.

I untwisted my brain today
And lay it out on the table in rows
Examined it for kinks
To see what the other thought thinks
To ask it what it knows.
I mushed it back together
But I couldn’t quite remember
What went where, or how it goes….
I squeezed it back in through my nose
And now my thoughts just flow and flow
Part of some muddled, mixed up show
All cause I examined my brain dontcha know.