Mountainous pictures of coloured scenes appear upon my facenAnd the joss stick smoke of sense dissolves, forever in its placenThe shadowy friends that line the walls all dream while laying downnWhile the window tapping silhouette in rain begins to drownnnIn the room of percussionnThe discussion slides as you enter through the doornAnd the one armed banditnLaughs aloud and disappears once morennFoolish thoughts of ecstasy are dead but without too much concernnIn the heart, my hopes by millions lay twisted as they burnnThe crooked faces of clocks appear and die in nightmare dreamsnWhile juggling music surrounds us both and turns our thoughts to screamsnnIn the room of percussionnThe discussion slides as you enter through the doornAnd the one armed banditnLaughs aloud and disappears once morenMy God, the spiders are everywhere!nnWith ruby wine and our tangled nerves, our mouths flap in despairnAnd with tumbled words of poetry, we try and prove we carenBut the glow-worm light of creativeness moves out into the rainnAnd the joss stick dies and disappears, its scent alone remainsnnIn the room of percussionnThe discussion slides as you enter through the doornAnd the one armed banditnLaughs aloud and disappears once morenIn the room of percussionnThe discussion slides as you enter through the doornAnd the one armed banditnLaughs aloud and disappears once morenMy God, the spiders are everywhere!