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I'm down
in the dirt and I'm scrounging around,
I'm looking for mushrooms wherever they're found,
(Oh, look at the pretty pink clouds in the
air),
I hope that I find a few mushrooms
somewhere.
I know
they are healthy, or so I've been told,
The ones that are shiny, not covered in mold,
(A pretty blue bunny is looking at me),
I think there are mushrooms there under that
tree.
I find
very little, not nearly enough,
I try to find more but it really is tough,
(I think I am flying, I'm feeling so light),
Come here little mushroom, I'll give you a
bite.
I'm done
with my troubles, I'm feeling okay,
At least for the moment, at least for today,
Tomorrow I'll search for a mushroom or two,
And maybe find some I can cook in a stew.
A
beautiful broth is the thing that I need,
A chemical mind is the thing that I feed,
(Now why is my elbow down there by my toe?),
I'll have one more helping, then maybe I'll
know.
Such nice
little mushrooms, they grow here and there,
(I knew I had clothes on, but now I am bare),
Such fine little mushrooms, I love them a lot,
It's too bad that others are just smoking
"pot".
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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