There may come a time when
All the beautiful blind flying saucer women
Get a glimpse of who you really were
They'll rip that mask off your face
Force you into exile in outer space
You'll be such a fine disgrace
Like an interstellar serpent
No one will see you shrivel away
No one will bid you adieu
The lines are all jammed, no one can get through
So many doors opened up then slammed shut
Just a little torture
To help you fall asleep
But not to deep
Make you count all of Marco Polo's sheep
While wearing the wrong man's trousers
In the midst of psychedelic meteor showers
The lines are all jammed no one can get through
The lines are all jammed, it's all over for you
Butterfingered dowsers call on the telephone
Hoping for a chance at enlightenment
But all they get is a busy signal
That's just how it is, the lines are all jammed
The lines are all jammed no one can get through
The lines are all jammed, it's all over for you
The lines are all jammed
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