The path to the awful room that no one will sleep in again Was lit for one man only, gone where none can follow him Try to look down the way he had gone Back of the closet whose depths go on and on and on And nice people said he was with God now Safe in his arms But the voices of the angels that he heard on his last days with us Smoke alarms Well, the path to the palace of wisdom that the mystics walk
Is lined with neuroleptics and electric shocks Hope daily for healing, try not to go insane Dance in a circle with bells on, try to make it rain And nice people say he had gone home to God now Safe in his arms, safe in his arms But the voices of the angels singing to him in his last hours with us Smoke alarms, smoke alarms