Sometimes late
When things are real
And the people share the gift of gab
Between themselves
Some are quick
To take the bait
And the catch the perfect prize
That waits among the shells
But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad
So please
Believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain'd bright colors
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsud green like bubbles
Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad
So please
Believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain'd bright colors
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsud green like bubbles
No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad
So please believe in me