I Want to Move to Glastonbury

I want to move to Glastonbury!
I’d climb the Tor every day.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
To live my life in an ‘Oh so spiritual way.’

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I would get up with the dawn;
Do yoga in the morning before
I get a chance to yawn.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I could move in to an Ashram,
I want to move to Glastonbury
Start every day with bhajans.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Open a self-help book emporium.
Be a famous Avalonian, a pseudo-historian,
A sustainable, ethical business-woman,
Make eco-friendly lotions and potions.
I will deal with my demons.
I’ll handle my emotions.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
To hang out with the hippies,
Meet the Druids, be a Bard;
Write poems and folkish ditties.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Wear purple velvet dresses,
Put flowers in my hair;
Be really abundant and totally blessed.

I want to be the priestess
The Goddess loves the bestest,
I want to be enlightened,
Like all the rest …. is.

I want to move to Glastonbury.
Oh … you’ve heard it all before?

But I want to move to Glastonbury,
To fix that problem under the Tor.
I’ll change my name to Crystal Clear
Be reborn, reborn, Reborn!

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Have tea with new age gurus,
I want to open a raw food deli,
Study cabala, practice voodoo,
Hoodoo, voodoo, you do,
I want to teach the healing that you do,
I’ll have colonic irrigation,
And deal with all the doo doo.

I want to move to Glastonbury
Be a Wiccan, Hindu, Buddhist.
I will be very grounded, and
Avalon’s holiest miss.

I want to move to Glastonbury
but everybody knows,
she won’t open up to anyone,
only the chosen get to go.

And then it happened, OMG!

I got to move to Glastonbury.
I’m a lucky lucky thing!
To sip the golden chalice,
And sit by holy springs.

I got to move to Glastonbury.
Oh, it made my heart sing
And here my friends,
Is where the trouble begins.

I got to move to Glastonbury,
It was a … tricky start,
Yet, there I found community,
To really warm your heart,

I was free to be me,
I could dress how I please.
I could fill my bucket,
With a truckle of cheese.
I could love and get loved up,
Do rituals for the bees,
I could step into my power,
And everyone could see!

Then the mill began to turn,
And so the rumours started,
Someone said I summoned demons,
every time I farted.

Next thing I’m a witch,
(I’m supposed to feel offended?)
which is pretty kitsch,
so I wasn’t upended.

He said, “You do black magic,”
I said, “Sir, you are a fool!”

Oh, I tried to keep my patience.
But I fear I lost my cool,
and I wasn’t feeling so spiritual.
I got to move to Glastonbury,

Now I’m screaming on the High Street,
Cos some nutter’s pissed me off,
And I couldn’t give a hundred monkey’s shits
What anybody thinks!

I got to move to Glastonbury
And so started the gnosis.
I got to have a soiree
And a dance with my psychosis.

Now everyone but me can see
where the bogey on my nose is
while I get lost in the process of
process, process, process!

Process, surrender, fucking process,
Process, process – what the fuck! Process.

Surrender to the process.
I got to move to goldfish bowl
where I couldn’t stub my toe,
wipe my arse or blow my nose
without everybody knowing.

In the open air asylum,
the cracks started showing.
Like embracing a siren,
There was no escape, no going.
And before I knew what I was hiding
I discovered what I’m showing.
And thus began the process of truly growing.