They were trading places
to find the nirvana of the poor houses
but they traded themselves by batter
for promised alchemy's gold
garlanded on the bee's knee as they wait
to hitch a ride on the red flying elephant

it is the time of absurdities
when the brain dead earn their keep
and line down to jump over the moon
and harvest cheese from cheese trees

ask me not to explain
I was never part of their moon dance
but do remember
they are trading places to find their nirvana
but they all lost their heads
under the red rising sun