I met a girl in the sky and I asked her, "Why do you fly?"
She said, "To pass the time," and I did reply, "What's that?"
We went to a field of caterpillars,
And with a smoky lip
Did on of them teach us how to skip.
We passed many marshmellow trees,
And we made instruments of the reeds
And made the most beautiful music ever seen.
I asked her her name, and she said, "It's all the same," and I said, "I just want to hear a sound more beautiful than the ones we've just made." And she did tell me her name was Psychedelia Ophelia.
But when the chilly winter came, everything ceased to be the same.
We had no leaves to lie in: only snow for her to die in.
I miss my Psychedelia Ophelia like the bird misses the worm at noon.
Now all I have to look forward to is the fact that I'll join her soon,
My Psychedelia Ophelia.