This Tangerine Dream
is not what it seems.
Frolicking colors
turn to menacing screams.
The walls start to tear
bugs crawl in your hair
and the answers you seek
are not quite so clear.
Straight up your spine
and right down your back
sweat drops in beads
to the tip of your crack.
Is it all in your head or a heart attack? Oh
how I hope this ends soon
because I cannot take this spinning room
or this devilish goon
who told me that soon
my head would be higher than a hot air balloon.
When it's all over I sure do hope that
my body will be here with my head still intact.
If not for the better than then for the worse,
line up the cars behind my great shiny hearse.
And if in the end this scene busts at the seams
just tell them
it was a Tangerine Dream.