Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose

She put on "Astral Weeks"

Said, "I love jazz" and winked at me

This is the last place I ought to be

But I can't drive and I sure can't sleep

Around this time, I publicly

Was treating acid with anxiety

I was unwell and suddenly

Her clown portraits spoke to me

You're in no shape

You're in no shape

All the king's horses, all the king's men

You may never be whole again

A publicist and a celibate

Started talking politics

By a small degree, she got him to admit

They're tacit fascists without knowing it

Oh, this went on and on

Performance art, an elaborate con

Baby, who wears pearls at 4 a.m?

This pitching yuppie found meaning's end

In no shape, mm

In no shape

All the king's horses, all the king's men

You may never be whole again

You may never be whole again

You may never be whole again

I saw something I shouldn't see

The awful truth, bare reality

That I'd forfeit my existence

If someone let me just play with them

Dawn long broke by the time

I realized that I lost my mind

I ate an ice cream dazed in the street

But it never taste quite as sweet

Again