"'scuse me, 'scuse me, 'scuse me"
"what, what, what!"
"i got this vision in my head of a metaphysical cat"
"oh that - forget it!"
"forget what?"
"what's the difference? it goes on, the bomb goes off
the bomb goes boom"
i got this vision in my head
of a metaphysical cat
she can't do miracles
and tough stuff like that
since her spiritual talent as such
is not too much
i haven't found my faith
or thrown away my crutch
lord, she looks like she might have been manufactured in Akron
her fur ain't fur, it is 40% Dacron
but that ectoplasmic cat she's my spiritual mama
with her tupperware eyes and her fake-fur pajamas
she got four left paws
no clout, no claws
but she walks with me
'neath explosions in the sky
and she talks with me
about presidents who lie
and she guides me 'cross the panic plain
when i get manic
she lives in the back of my brain
i got this vision in my head
she's a metaphysical bluff
she can't prognosticate
rate our fate or any of that high-rate stuff
she's rough, she's tough
she's didn't just appear on a cosmic breeze
from some burnt-out, hyped-up supernova beyond the Pleiades
that metaphysical cat
she ain't some quaint saint
or mythical ancient queen
know what i mean?
her predictions are as accurate as people magazine
but she walks with me past apartheid and parades
and she talks with me about protestations against the United Nations
pro-radical, anti-liberal political parades
and she cries with me about my best friend
who got so sick so quick and went and died of AIDS
she gets me through this twenty-first worst century pain
when she lives in the back of my brain
hey hey, look, I know, as visions go
mine is minor, half way, way beyond total manic
yet so semi-mundane she could never be in a book
by Shirley Maclaine
but she gets me through the dreck
the used car wreck
demons in the drain
the nuclear waste
