Lyric Incarceration of a Flower Child

Do you remember me ? How we used to be helpless and happy and blind ?
Sunk without hope in a haze of good dope and cheap wine ?
Laying on the living-room floor on those Indian tapestry cushions you made
Thinking of calling our first born Jasmine or Jade.

Don t do it, don t do it, don t do it to me,
Don t think about it, don t think about it, don t think about it, don t think about what it might be,
Don t get up to open the door, just stay with me here on the floor,
It s gonna get cold in the 1970 s.

You wouldn t listen, you thought you knew better, you just to had to speak to that man.
Please believe me, I ll visit whenever I can.
Laying in your little white room with no windows and three square sedations a day,
You plead with the doctor who s running the show,
"Please don t take Jasmine away and leave me alone."


Don t do it, don t do it, don t do it, don t do it to me,
Don t think about it, don t think about it, don t think about it, don t think about what it might be,
Don t get up to open the door, just stay with me here on the floor,
It s gonna get cold in the 1970 s.

Do you remember me ? How we used to be helpless and happy and blind ?
Sunk without hope in a haze of good dope and cheap wine ?
Now in your little white room with no windows and three square sedations a day
You plead with the doctor who s running the show,
"Please don t take Jasmine away and leave me alone."