Like the world’s on a summersault,
Round and round like a Giant wheel
With me at the iris of the London eye.
It began when my toes followed my other heel,
Going in circles but never on a straight lane.
Every step seemed a giant leap,
With the road going wobbly, long and winding.
Mary Jane and her ecstatic cousin,
Her soporific niece with that dreamy son
Of an ancestor from the den;
Couldn’t compete with this perpetual concussion.
Often succumbed, only to perfect the fall.
Though it hurts, yes it does,
This pain doesn’t really last for long.
Just in case you're wondering,
What I've been rambling aloud,
I'm trippin' on my shoe lace,
Once again, here I go.