But there was one time we were playing at the old Philmore and it was after Bill Graham wasn't writing in any more. So it was some independent, like a hippie, some hippies, local hippies, had rented it for some cause or another or whatever. And somebody, this guy, who was like sort of a famous freak and ran around the scene in those days, comes in and he's got this big birthday cake, he's got this huge big birthday cake. You know, you look up, look at it and think, that thing's got to be dosed. I just noticed, I know it's dosed. I'm looking at it, I'm looking at it, I'm looking at it, I'm thinking, yeah, I'm sure it's not dosed. But it looks good, you know, this beautiful thing. So I thought, I'll just take a little frosting here, you know, I'll just take a little snack. So I take this and then somebody comes in and says, Yeah, we put about 800 hits of acid in that frosting. Uh. Look good. Mic check. The astro project. Medicate, meditate, and levitate through the astro zone. I pray my voice resonates, elevates, in spite of thoughts with hella weight. So *** yourself a bottle and elucidate. I'm a reciprocate, cause karma got me in that jittery mood. Trying to suck my mind, smoke a banana, didgeridoo, but I'm far from Aboriginal. Don't stick to rituals, the mental to your physical. Spit facts and fiction on my flows, we overheads like the concept of space time. The way I'm yielding green, I'm like a driver on FaceTime. When dropping LSD, pop two or three, but I just drop the strip. I see you wonder, undecided, have a nice trip. For those who can hear me, I say, do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed.