You're way up on Mount Sinai with Moses, man.
From that lofty hight you can smell the sandalwood in the angels' hair, taste their sweet sweat, hear their love songs in your ears.
You have the visions of lowland life of the planet that no one else can see 'cause they're too far in the thick of it.
You'd love to heal the world, just like the angels and gods would, and you weep for the powerlessness of it all.
But Evil Pink, Vacant Blue, Rampant Green and Raging Purple, all they can do is drop pinkies and Tequila to soak up the blues down on the plains.
inky 