Nine of Swords

I went to an oracle in Baltimore on a solo tour leg
And using telepathy she said
“You’re on the pothead path to a penthouse view of your early ruin,”
But this happens every time my tarot’s read

I run with a crow and with a witch and with this tiny jaguar
And I have other friends that I forget
I look at the laying on of healing hands in the church of the brethren
But I’m not entirely sold on reiki yet

What is it with the hands?
Won’t you give me that good wisdom you’re famous for in these parts?
I’m overwhelmed hеre

Catch me at crossroads trying to conjure thе ghost of one Robert Johnson
He’ll ask for a lot but I’ll talk him down
And come out on top of the deal, a bandit at the crucifixion
I forget what I was talking about...

Never not Nine of Swords, babe
We die a little bit each day
It’s nothing to get bent out of shape about, believe me
It’s easy!