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 you a teepee and went home without a noise
 And the psychic's 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, psychic's sewing words he's yet to say
 And 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
 
 Oh
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 Para-ra-ra-ra
 Ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh
 And 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
 Oh, 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