She put on Astral Weeks
Said: I love Jazz, and winked at me
This is the last place I oughta be
But I can't drive, and I sure can't sleep
Around this time, I publicly
Was treating acid with anxiety
I was unwell, and suddenly
Her clown portraits spoke to me

You're in no shape
You're in no shape
All the kings horses, all the kings men
You may never be whole again

A publicist and a celibate started talking politics
By a small degree, she got him to admit
They're tacit fascists without knowing it
And oh this went on and on
Performance art, an elaborate con
Baby, who wears pearls at four AM?
This Pynchon yuppie found meanings end

You're in no shape
In no shape
All the kings horses, all the kings men
You may never be whole again
You may never be whole again
You may never be whole again

I saw something I shouldn't see
The awful truth, bare reality
That I'd forfeit my existence
If someone let me just play with them
Dawn long broke by the time
I realized that I lost my mind
I ate an ice cream, dazed in the street
But it never tasted quite as sweet
Again
Again