In the sylvan madness of pot and kush
When the darkness, colors with a rainbow blush
When the tides ebb and the winds pick up
When the faes of grassy glades gladly gallop
Will I ever see another in the land of the sentient
Or would centiyears pass before I meet a tenant?
Antennas out, I roam the blooming fields
Something stirs, I lose all my feels.