Fakir

Now you’re stuck with me in limbo
Take a number, get in line
I’ll absorb your opinions
And pretend your thoughts were mine
Greasy food and porn
Here’s your medication
I’ll make you dance
Like an indian cobra
I am your fakir
One more cup of Saint John’s wort tea
Then I can get out of bed
Purple spots on turquoise mushrooms
Now I must clean up my mess
Greasy food is porn
Your shopping mall is your home
I’ll put you in a trance
Like a true believer
I am your fakir