Ecstasy fill the silent halls,

Paint upon the asylum’s walls,

Let loose those in padded cells,

Who cannot stop the ringing bells,

It is all in their minds you see,

They are not nearly as sane as we,

Who says so, why I of course,

Haven’t you heard of a talking horse.

White suits always make the man,

Attempt to form an escape plan,

Nights of drugs and electric dreams,

From which there’s no escape it seems,

Perfect people and perfect world,

Into psychosis we are all hurled,

From sleep we never awake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.