It’s confusing isn’t it?
When the sun rises and the sun sets
When the moon and the stars remain in the sky
When flowers bloom and leaves fall
But it’s not confusing
When a witch smokes a cigarette in a lake.
When her thoughts of cathedrals drift as easy as the swan behind her
Holding his driver in hand desperate for the golf ball he knows landed nearby
It’s not confusing
When a clock melts into a pool of radiant hues
When a horse sprouts wings and asks if you party
When your right hand converges with the universe and erupts into a heavenly choir
It’s not confusing
When spiders crawl through your eyes as you lie awake
When the pope‘s blood-filled mouth screams in horror after dinner
When the man with no face tells you how you’re going to die
When the abnormal becomes the everyday
When visions are all that you see
Confusion turns on its head
And your head turns on you