Once in a blue moon you hear something that clobbers you over the head and reminds you why art is so crucial in our world. Today it was "Mythical Kings & Iguanas" by Dory Previn, which she wrote during a period of very poor mental health. She saw the mythical king as the highest possible state, and the iguana as the lowest, most primal state. It stopped me dead in my tracks.
I have flown to star-stained heights On bent and battered wings In search of mythical kings Mythical kings Sure that everything of worth Is in the sky and not the earth And I never learned to make my way Down, down, down where the iguanas play I have ridden comet tails In search of magic rings to conjure Mythical kings Mythical kings Singing scraps of angel-song High is right and low is wrong And I never taught myself to give Down, down, down where the iguanas live Astral walks I try to take I sit and throw I ching
Aesthetic bards And tarot cards are the cords to which I cling Don't break my strings
I wish you would Or I will fall I wish I could, I wish I could
Curse the mind that mounts the clouds In search of mythical kings And only mystical things Mystical things Cry for the soul that will not face The body as an equal place And I never learned to touch for real Or feel the things iguanas feel Down, down, down Where they play Teach me, teach me Teach me, reach me