Wake up in the morning and I gotta tell ya,
Something’s going on.
Right down to the corner I’m bumpin some funk,
Something’s going on,
Straight up my leg to the breast plate,
My leg keeps jumpin to the beat rate.

Hands in my pockets givin head nods,
Don’t know where I’m off too,
Something’s going on,
But it’s where I haven’t been before.
Something’s going on,
Up in the sky the sun soar

Dontcha see what’s happenin here?
Something’s going on,
And wouldn’t you know you’re a part of it,
Something’s going on,
Just as I sail the streets and search,
Desperately I’ll find it one day,
Until then I’ll just sail on and know,
Something’s going on.

There once was an Eskimo!
Named Es-kee-mo-mo!
He was of Somolian Antartician,
Persuasion!
Just about this big,
Jaggedly he roamed about the country,
In search of some gravity.
Little did Es-kee-mo-mo know,
But what he looking for in fact,
Was his long lost sack.
He searched long and hard,
Along the tundriatic terrain,
But he never did quite find,
The bag ya dig?

They must have jumped out,
He hollered quite loud,
Enough to cause an avalanche,
Swept away in the wave,
Ol’ Es-kee-mo-mo couldn't believe,
That right up on top of the cliff,
Was his sack shining in the light.

When was it but in this moment,
When I was here and there,
Right here in this moment,
Where it didn’t count anymore,
Walked around in circles,
All the same
Right here in this moment.

Curse you for Giving me nothing but pleasure,
For the minute Pain that helped,
In its gruesome, ugly intesity,
True dianetic energy magnitude,
Was a droplet compared to the,
Ocean of tranquil pleasure

Left standing in the overpass of a great shadow,
It seems that This opens more doors,
Not shutting them all
But the one that I would re-open,
It’s hard to hear it’s locked now.

Listen to my mind wander,
Silhouetted footsteps
Echo through the doorway,
Smoke exhumes the body,
The trial is about to begin,
Carnivalesque a mockery,
The laughing ends with reality,
Seeing for the first time,
That the wandering footsteps,
Innocent intent,
Caused ripples in the tidepool,
Wings flapping,
Utter chaos,
Order within the universe,
Faithful to the fear.

I am here only in spirit,
The likelihood of this being,
Is forgotten in the doing

“Where do we go from here?”
Asked the lost navigator
As he scanned the ocean
And saw he was alone
Invisible to him,
Were the masts,
Confused for the clouds,
And the boats,
Bluer than the sea,
And the people,
All united under the sky,
They kept looking up.

Everything is creaking and shrieking,
A symphony of metals grinding
Woods swelling and
Floors bending under the weight,
Why haven’t I made a sound?