Bugs!

In the land I like, sun shines down like a peach I love to think of fuzzy hairs of fire swaying so The shaman I saw yesterday told me simply, 'Go' So I calmly left her teepee and went home without a noise The psychics minds are sewing, but the gypsies' hands stay still The worlds around them change and spin, and rain soaks their clothing But, one yells out, whispering, 'It's all clearer to me now' He dances in it, psychics sewing words he's yet to say The bricks are catty-corner to the grease below them now And every time I look at them I wonder who laid them But, they've been here for ages, weather's touched these natural tiles It's something I must leave behind and re-visit when I die What I've meant to say this time is bugs are coming now It's after dark, they're closing in, it was humid out today And, one decides to try and make an entrance in my ear Thinks my head is the bee hive and there the bounty will be found Bugs behaving badly, get 'em to the prison now I tell you, yes, it is their fault, you should spit 'em from the sky But, if you have too kind a heart to cause these things to die Then move on with my admiration trailing from behind Bugs follow on like constellations frozen in the sky