In magazines, dreams fashion
In TV schemes illusion
In life the drug is heaven
In living it turns reality on us
In essence life is a hypodermic.

In mountainous waves of moving eyes
We see white hot ants living their lives
The blue antelope’s mind begins to realise
That amber embers only once will die
The waving hills droop noiselessly from view
Waiting for the iron fist to meet you
But you have the key to silence the woes
So you walk on passed the chaos inside of you.

Gathering moments lengthening time
Strike a chord appearing almost sublime
Which reaches as far as the white ant hill
the smoke belies the dying embers still
have a hand ready
keep your smile steady
when you speak to a blue antelope
we don’t give up on hope
trade in your hours for a few pounds
the trade made for robots and slaves
the heavens hard message brings to ground
to hear the armies of white ants sound
your DNA that exposes preparation for battle 
against the history of cells with a firm needle
its sharpness is embedded in your veins
learn never to meddle with it nor disdain
those who experiment with a psychedelic brain
be in control
be in
be.