The path to the awful room that one will sleep in again   Was lit for one man only gone where none can follow him   Try to look down the way he'd gone:   Back of a closets whose depths draw and on and on      And nice people said he was with God now   Safe in his arms   But the voices of the angels that he heard on his last days with us   Smoke alarms      Well the path to the palace of wisdom that the mystics walk   Is lined with neuroleptics and electric shocks   Hope daily for healing   Try not to go insane   Dance in a circle with bells on   Try to make it rain      And nice people say he had gone home to God now   Safe in his arms, safe in his arms   But the voices of the angels singing to him on his last hours with us   Smoke alarms, smoke alarms