Dock Ellis throws a no hitter on acid, 1970 Ever since I got called Up to the Big Dream Leaving it’s the wound I got to plug now and then. Fear of failure is a Terrible drug, worse Than any bad trip, Especially when I step up To any fanged White Who wants to find out What I’m packing in this head. Wins, losses, those are Flowers and bullets buried Deep in my flesh ‘cause I speak My worth, same as any other man. But it gets too much standing On a mound like on A goddamn fresh grave Staring past ghost After ghost trying To send me back Down from where I climbed. Fuck no, I pull that Frosty piece of lead From out my chest And plug my wound With something heavy, Heavier than a shovel of dirt Than every shoe my father Shaped and shined. So if I dropped Some acid in the AM And now my curves drop Like they're rolling off The kitchen table, long as I Stay god of this mound Nothing else matters And right now, even the air Peels a path for me, even Death Hath no dominion, though His imps do try.