flying through a dark prismatic tunnel on a carousel, the earth is
  turning and you know it very well, your mind is reeling lika ten
  helicopters wheeling and you're gonna hit the ceiling lika a mallet on
  a bell, hey, blenderhead, they're starting to ask questions, your
  transgressions ar a danger flashing sign, challenge conventions and
  radiate your splendor and feel those flywheels curn your blenderhead,
  tally up the gleaming ventured on a wishing well, each shining trinket
  h as a story it can tell, your moments pining like those tales all
  intertwining can become the rusted lining of a deep neglected shell,
  hey, blenderhead, you ask so many questions, your confusion's a life-
  affirming sign, break from tradition and carry on with valor and feel
  those flywheels churn you blenderhead