Archive 1967-75 (disk 1) lyrics

There is lambswool under my naked feet.
The wool is soft and warm,
- gives off some kind of heat.
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
The fleas cling to the golden fleece,
Hoping theyll find peace.
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.
Theres no hiding in my memory.
Theres no room to avoid.