flying through a dark prismatic tunnel on a carousel, the earth is turning and you know it very well, your mind is reeling lika ten helicopters wheeling and you`re gonna hit the ceiling lika a mallet on a bell, hey, blenderhead, they`re starting to ask questions, your transgressions ar a danger flashing sign, challenge conventions and radiate your splendor and feel those flywheels curn your blenderhead, tally up the gleaming ventured on a wishing well, each shining trinket h as a story it can tell, your moments pining like those tales all intertwining can become the rusted lining of a deep neglected shell, hey, blenderhead, you ask so many questions, your confusion`s a life- affirming sign, break from tradition and carry on with valor and feel those flywheels churn you blenderhead
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