"'scuse me, 'scuse me, 'scuse me"

"what, what, what!"

"i got this vision in my head of a metaphysical cat"

"oh that - forget it!"

"forget what?"

"what's the difference? it goes on, the bomb goes off

the bomb goes boom"

i got this vision in my head

of a metaphysical cat

she can't do miracles

and tough stuff like that

since her spiritual talent as such

is not too much

i haven't found my faith

or thrown away my crutch

lord, she looks like she might have been manufactured in Akron

her fur ain't fur, it is 40% Dacron

but that ectoplasmic cat she's my spiritual mama

with her tupperware eyes and her fake-fur pajamas

she got four left paws

no clout, no claws

but she walks with me

'neath explosions in the sky

and she talks with me

about presidents who lie

and she guides me 'cross the panic plain

when i get manic

she lives in the back of my brain

i got this vision in my head

she's a metaphysical bluff

she can't prognosticate

rate our fate or any of that high-rate stuff

she's rough, she's tough

she's didn't just appear on a cosmic breeze

from some burnt-out, hyped-up supernova beyond the Pleiades

that metaphysical cat

she ain't some quaint saint

or mythical ancient queen

know what i mean?

her predictions are as accurate as people magazine

but she walks with me past apartheid and parades

and she talks with me about protestations against the United Nations

pro-radical, anti-liberal political parades

and she cries with me about my best friend

who got so sick so quick and went and died of AIDS

she gets me through this twenty-first worst century pain

when she lives in the back of my brain

hey hey, look, I know, as visions go

mine is minor, half way, way beyond total manic

yet so semi-mundane she could never be in a book

by Shirley Maclaine

but she gets me through the dreck

the used car wreck

demons in the drain

the nuclear waste