1983

This is the first time I've mourned the loss of a part of me. Oh god, I can't feel them anymore. I used to be able to take it all in, and now it's just blowing over me, stinging like a desert wind.

Well, that's a blow to the carapace/thorax/gut if ever there was one.

-

Are you experienced, Gypsy Eyes?
Your house is burning down
Aflame of the midnight lamp
The telephone screams
The traffic lights explode
On long hot summer nights

I'm standing tall as mountain
Reach right in and take some sugar
I'm standing up to the mountain
And making an island of it
Just for me
The smug bastard from the past
The smug bastard ain't going to last

Set fire to the strings
Oh, priest, oh, cenobite of psychedelia
And let the country know
It'll shake to the roots when you sing