Conduit

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Ambrosia

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Follow me to a place among the fallen clouds
Where time and space are as subjective as can be
And you, as objective as one's house
When inside the place you call your head
When having entered into the unique unknown
Where you may go but you must be led
But unlike Keasey, the bus is public
And we'll never dream this never-never land
All of this from the same worldly trip
By the same porthole, tunnel, conduit
Through psychedellic, psilocybin trip
The answers come out for themselves

This is most certainly my final trip
To find the answers that were left behind
Things that you can't pin down through consciousness
So you seek them through unconscious mind
While so unconscious ever to existence
So eager to learn what I find
Only fools ignore such cryptic traits
These clues, these messages, these things that hide
For he who will not honor altered states
And the things they have to offer
To use such things you need respect and restraint
And to understand when such things are proper
For you are not a child and this is not a game
And these altered states are not induced for fun
For psychedellics reveal so many things
Each one a key unlocking different doors
Akin to blasphemy for recreation
For it is obnubilation as religion

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