I met some beurocrats, and sophistos

Most of them were druggies, but you get the gist though

Do the math, do the math

I met some teachers, and professors

It was heathen they were after

Read the map, read the map

I met an Italian, and a jew

They don't look a bit like you

You are clearly in my view

With right right eyes wide open

Or digging for the horoscope

I met a whore, I met a dentist

They both couldn't tell me where time went

I met a boy I saw some toys

There was a plan, without ploy

Then I stumbled at the creekside, and saw you were at his side

I could handle the truth, I did not hide

Well in all honesty I wanted to know what time it is

It's his, It's his

Leaving the scene quite pissed

I hit the local bar, and talked to a farmer

The crops were late, did I want an orange

Grey skies turned to blue

How about you, how about you

Then I hit on the news reporter

And someone said you're getting older

I said Napoleon was manic-depressive

That is how he conceived of all the strategies

And you repressed me

Adding to a labyrinth