Boxer John

Lyrics

The Big Old Hazy

The duke and dutchess on the lawn speak heretics with God at dawn
Businessmen don't understand how little they have to command
David Icke knows presidents and kings and queens are lizard men
Alan Watts might fry your brain and make you all feel good again

Now I'm gonna take the morning train out to the edges once again
Of the hazy, the big old hazy
Ride the seesaw up and down and spin the wheel of fortune round
In the hazy, the big old hazy

Don't take your tips and pony tricks from journalists or politics
Cool Hand Luke and Papillon show how a man should carry on
Not much else could do you good like Ray Materick's Sidestreets would
Those radio tramps won't set you free like Sister Tharpe or Melanie

Now I'm gonna take the first bus out, back to the shadow of certain doubt
In the hazy, the big old hazy
Break it all down and start anew and get myself a room with a view
In the hazy, the big old hazy

Where there is no word of lie
No cream-puff chicken-chested pride
And not one sneak nor single snide could ever take you for a ride

Oh, oh, oh the big old hazy

Now quasars, quarks and elements mess with the mind of mortal men
While those in search of the trinity have gained invisibility
I'd rather live in a land of ghosts than offer my soul to bogus hosts
Psychopaths in pinstripe grey and automatons in the hit-parade

Now I'm gonna take a last chance ride through the long and winding dark insides
Of the hazy, the big old hazy
Take my head down the twisting lanes and try to find the truth again
In the hazy, the big old hazy

And if I don't come up for air
You'll know that I've found it down there
Don't you worry, don't despair
I'll have more than enough to share

Oh, oh, oh the big old hazy
Oh, oh, oh the big old hazy