One of the songs played in 1965-66 by the Dead but then dropped from their repertoire.
Bob Weir described the writing of the song in an interview: "Well, we wrote all the music and Jerry wrote the lyrics. Jerry excused himself for a moment and went off. He came back with a couple of verses and we put together a chorus."
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I'm flying down deserted streets
Wrapped in mother's winding sheets
Asbestos boots on flaming feet
Dreaming of forbidden treats
When uniforms on nighttime beats
Ask me where I'm going and what I eat
I answer them with a voice so sweet
I can't come down, it's plain to see
I can't come down, I've been set free
Who you are and what you do don't make no difference to me
Well someone trying to tell me where it's at
And how I do this and why I do that
With secret smiles like a Cheshire cat
And leather wings like a vampire bat
I fly away to my cold water flat
And eat my way through a bowl of fat
And I say to the man with the funny hat
They say I've begun to lose my grip
My hold on reality is starting to slip
They tell me to get off this trip
They say that it's like a sinking ship
Life's sweet wine's too warm to sip
And if I drink I'll surely flip
I just say as I take a nip
So as I dream of forgotten seas
And granite halls and redwood trees
And of the eye that only sees
Endless mirrors and infinite me's
About the winter's coming freeze
This afterthought I say with ease
To all of you who made your pleas