Not too long ago, I got cursed by ghost dogs in a haunted house in upstate New York. Disoriented from the effects of the curse, I tripped and fell into a then never-ending seeming abyss of pure darkness. From within the void, I called to my friends. One of them told me of a spell from their grandmother and pulled me out with a rope made of purple and gold. So I took a dried chili pepper that I bought at the grocery store, set it on fire and circled its smoke clockwise seven times, and crossed the threshold. Then I consulted the oracle for the location of a cow. I found her at Seldom Rest Farms. I fed to Curse Breaker a half a loaf of Martin’s Potato Bread. That broke the curse. The ghost dogs and I were then free to move on.
Momma come, get these guns
Bury them far away from the sun
I’ve got to go and find my way
When I’ve found
Another sound
Pick it and I come around
I’ll come back from that lost highway
All I know is I wasn’t to blame
It wasn’t me
It was so insane
It was the ghost dogs of the haunted house
Khubla Khan, what is this
Isn’t Xanadu still your bliss
Or did it die in last year’s freeze
In a crowd, all alone
I fell well outside my zone
And hid somewhere in the trees
All I know is I wasn’t to blame
It wasn’t me
It was so insane
It was the ghost dogs of the haunted house
Every single little universe
Could bounce back then and finally burst
Better for being or none the worse
What’s the matter
Every single little universe
Could bounce back then and finally burst
Better for being or none the worse
What’s the matter
All I know is I wasn’t to blame
It wasn’t me
It was so insane
It was the ghost dogs of the haunted house
All I know is I wasn’t to blame
It wasn’t me
It was so insane
It was the ghost dogs of the haunted house