i have flown   to star-stained heights   on bend and battered wings   in search of   mythical kings   mythical kings   sure that everything of worth   is in the sky and not the earth   and i never learned   to make my way   down   down   down   where the iguanas play      i have ridden   comet tails   in search of magic rings   to conjure   mythical kings   mythical kings   singing scraps of angel-song   high is right and low is wrong   and i never taught   myself to give   down   down   down   where the iguanas live      astral walks i try to take   i sit and throw i ching   aesthetic bards   and tarot cards   are the cords   to which i cling   don't break my strings   (i wish you would)   or i will fall   (i wish i could   i wish i could   i wish i could)      curse the mind   that mounts the clouds   in search of mythical kings   and only   mystical things   mystical things   cry for the soul   that will not face   the body as an equal place   and i never learned   to touch for real   or feel the things   iguanas feel   down   down   down   where they play   teach me   teach me   teach me   reach me.