Bad Religion

flying through a dark prismatic tunnel on a carousel, the earth is

turning and you know it very well, your mind is reeling lika ten

helicopters wheeling and you're gonna hit the ceiling lika a mallet on

a bell, hey, blenderhead, they're starting to ask questions, your

transgressions ar a danger flashing sign, challenge conventions and

radiate your splendor and feel those flywheels curn your blenderhead,

tally up the gleaming ventured on a wishing well, each shining trinket

h as a story it can tell, your moments pining like those tales all

intertwining can become the rusted lining of a deep neglected shell,

hey, blenderhead, you ask so many questions, your confusion's a life-

affirming sign, break from tradition and carry on with valor and feel

those flywheels churn you blenderhead

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