I’m going round
I’m going round to my friends house
To get myself high
It takes me to a different place
Where nothing leaves my mind
But men in blue knocked on my door
And said "I’ve come to kill off your kind"
It’s the killing of the mind

The circus came
Then packed up their things
When there’s no ones around
We’ll be high as kings
Without the things
Like jewels and gold

I’m rolling down
I’m rolling down to my hotel
Between the lines
The paperboy still looks the same
As the old get old
And the young are feeling fine

A soldier came knocked down my walls
And said “ I’ve come to kill off your kind”
It’s the killing of the mind
The circus came
Then packed up their things
When there’s no one around
We’ll be high as kings
Without the things
Like jewels and gold

The circus came
Then packed up their things
When there’s no one around
We’ll be high as kings
Without the things
Like jewels and gold