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The Backroom

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When I first tripped on acid as an infant, I always had the same vision of being in a Turkish hashish den, filled with a dim purple light. Through a cracked door emitting a beautiful yet somewhat sinister red light, I could hear deep, magical music compel
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A cavern of wonder,
Paradise or doom?
Red light through a cracked door
Into the back room.
Come into the backroom.

You must pay the doorman
With seeds and mushrooms,
San Pedro and blotter,
To get into the back room.
Come into the backroom.

Traffic and Hendrix
And narghile fumes,
Through misty black light
Up in the front room.
Come into the backroom.

A forbidden portal,
So one never knew
Just what all was happening.
There in the backroom.
Come into the backroom.