My dealer calls that mix "Amnesia tea."
It's herbs, and dried worms, and god knows what.
It's for the memories you always want
To wipe, untell, unhear and unsee.

Those moments when you failed and then gave up to try.
When you have hurt the ones who only wished you good.
When your loved one rejected you and you just stood
Under the rain and wept and sought the reason why.

When you behaved like jerk and their respect died fast.
First time in childhood when you learned how dumb
The adults are. When you chose to be numb
After your words were laughed at. All that's past.

Today is day to get naive again. To quit
Recalling silly words, cheap smiles and covered tears.
To take off armour you've been growing all these years.
Amnesia tea will help with that, although it tastes like shit.

Tonight let's play the game of being gods.
Old-fashioned ones,
No omnipotent omnipresent stuff.
I'll be the god of lakes and fishermen,
Of solitude, of Eastern wind, of songs,
And of dark ale.
You can take merchants, novels and green tea,
Mischievous schemes,
Deep forests, late sunrise and what you like.
Then we will write the sagas about us,
And make up shrines on top of secret hills,
And rituals,
No human sacrifices please, they're gross.
Then we'll get bored
And make up prophets, sins and holy books,
Philosophers, heretics, monks and nuns.
At last if we'll have time we'll make crusade.
Crusades are fun.