Guided By Voices. In Stitches. Zeneszám

What have we here?
Where the fragmented mind is reassembled
A new gift for crying out loud
A small token of our appreciation

Human amusements at hourly rates?

It all makes for trouble math
But when the lights come on
You leave me in stitches
You leave me in stitches

I hear you singing the spiritual getaway
Yearning to hike away from hurt
And spiny things who use you
For their practice and settlements

Permanent holy wars
Dissolve and crash on the red horizon
Busted bottle red sunshine
Moonfire flickering