A song about a spacy girl who's both attractive and repellent.
© 1995 CHRIS BUTLER/© 1995 FUTURE FOSSIL MUSIC (BMI)
priestess of bliss
a pipeline to every kind of mys-tic-al
mistress of chance
there are no accidents, itís all
goddess of truth
ev-ry-thing is orbiting Monica
so many moons...
down on your knees, boy
your egoís a weed in her garden of
gone for a spin
dazzle-a-ting every dimension
sheís currently in
smack on the spot
where all endings begin
everybodyís orbiting Monica
cause she always wins!
at the center of a quantum-teenage Universe of Light
hand-picked by Monica Ďcause itís just felt so right
i butterfly around her, butterfly around her, butterfly-fly
always looking in from the outside
her brand/kind of wisdom is not mine
lift up her lid and who knows what you'll find..?
donít get the joke
but Mon-i-caís laughing...laughing
zoned-out on space
spliced/hip to her place
in the great cosmic flowing
so damn far out
can ya, can ya read me, Monica?
over and out?
highest of lotuses
coldest of cools
satellized by too many christophers
too many moons!
at the center of a micro-teenage Universe of Light
the gift of Mon-i-ca al-ways denied
still Iím lookiní in from the outside
her brand of wisdom is not mine