It's magic mushroom season
But I can't find a field
I used to know a couple
That had impressive yields
You go out to some farm there
In the foggy morning mist
You sometimes aren't the first one
But there's always some they missed
You walk among the cowshit
You get down on one knee
You ruffle through the foliage
You pick the ones you see
You don't go ask permission
And you don't upset the cows
You do it quick and quiet
Because mushrooms aren't allowed
You might just eat a couple
But don't make no mistakes
The good ones have a nipple
And turn blue where they break
It's rained all through October
And the grass is damp with dew
The birds fly in such patterns
I've never seen - have you?
It's magic mushroom season
But I've got nowhere to pick
But I've got some in my freezer
From 1996
(Just a ditty, but those who have an interest in such matters should check out the Sacred Plant Medicine conference at UBC this weekend. Oliver Hockenhull's preferred long cut of From Neurons 2 Nirvana: The Great Medicines will be screening - read my Straight interview here).
No comments:
Post a Comment