A spiritual cleansing,
Where all you know and do's forgotten,
For the joy of just drinking,
In the silliness of entertainment,
Through the eyes of absurdity.
I'm trapped inside a prison of jazz,
By Dr. Destructo's childish sensibility.
And when I break free I am back in the world,
That sent me there in the first place.
But this time I know things that it does not,
That puts me ahead in the human race.
And it's alright,
If Storm Dancer doesn't return for a year.
It's probably better that I'm not swallowed up,
By the temptation to forget all fear.
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