I knew of all kinds of religion and witchcraft
I discovered vertigo through a series of reds
I had no sense of time
Looking through me eyes was like looking through a kaleidoscope
All the colors and shapes formed victims hanging by trees
I don't know and don't want to know about it
A one-eyed midget looks up at me and shouts,
"I was in a ditch, up a cliff, sick of it, ready to quit!"
Maybe I'll never know but have only ideas
Of dogs that can talk, fish that can walk, guns that can sing
Man, ideas of everything
How many eyes do I need to see?
How many ears do I need to hear?
I've walked many ways
Highways, hallways, walkways, stairways
Now the only way left is West is the best
I knew I had too many medicines as I breathed in the railroad gin
Maybe the only thing left is my salvation
I could go to the church of my choice or Bus 142
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Chris McCandless riding Bus 142