by Andy Partridge

Jump for joy.
Lightheaded, I crash through your ceiling of gems.
Lightheaded, I dance like a drunked red mill.

We're all neon signs just like the one behind the bar,
advertising Darwins dreams of Blake.
If we're just a snack in waiting for some hungry star,
love is all we've time to make.

Lightheaded, I spin like a sycamore seed.
Lightheaded, a kite on your filament wire.

We're all little lightbulbs like the ones inside God's head,
popping with the choice of paths to take.
There's no need to worry 'bout the seconds that have fled
love is all we're bred to bake.

Lightheaded so,
jump for joy.

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