Sometimes late when things are real and people share the gift of gab
Between themselves
Some are quick to take the bait and catch the perfect prize
That waits among the shells
But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Ma That he
didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad
So please Believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stained bright colors
Image going down, down, down, down / soapsud green like bubbles
Repeat chorus ad nauseum
So please believe in me