Jethro Tull & Ella Foice
Mercury Rx To escape the depression that is the realization of what is not and has gone I mix and deposit in a glass tall, from a bar, the glacial era without straits of ormuz, which I foresee arriving to the marvelous tropics of the lost Woodstock, A cocktail of pain of spiced flavor And if the future is foreseen I prefer it erased, with the useful, useless objective, it will soon be seen, of being able to be modified. I draw the neurotransmitters, the little hat on top, the synapses await I choose dopamine and a pinch of serotonin a mint leaf, because the ice is already there, And I argue to the heavens, to the gods who seem to me crazier, more deaf: Let the mission come, then Neptune in Scorpio, before I lose the urgency, the recipe that I invented for coherence within myself Which I prefer to the afflicted dissection of life and to the damned stagnation.
