Ha! oh of the history books

I was millions of universes on collide
and foam fruited circus
and the dance and dreams
of fairies with wings
livin outa vans
with my feet in the sands
on the wang of a shore
so far from home

I was chineese counting beads
and animals and reptiles
singing in the swamps
behind reckless hotels
where irons travel well
and orange pants
and pinkie promises
lay their roaming heads to rest
on the stiff salted mess
of sunshricken grass

I was arcade game
played intently
movements considered carefully
under alcohol and lsd
and the literature spoken
over key bumps of molly
with our lips aflame
and the undying fame
of a juicing madman
and the noise we create

I was right
I was wrong
I was lost in song
intent and driven
fulfilled and stricken
not sour or sullen
or rancid and runnin
just me and the moon
over floridian dunes
and a dream I remembered
in the Jersey mornin