My Peyote eyes,

Jim Morrison on the TV, singing snakes and lies,

His poetry shaking in my hands,

Save the glands…

Mexico cacti crown,

Waltz hippie-style in my

Native American gown,

God’ll sway with us in the sky.

Save the glands…

My Peyote eyes,

Stuck on the spinal glands,

My Peyote eyes,

They shine,

And they shimmer,

Growing, glowing, like a coal mine,

Suddenly, they get dimmer.

My Peyote eyes.