Barnyard Story - Procol Harum

Chicken in the farmyard, there’s an oven in your bin

You’re growing old with sorrow, you’re growing fat with sin

I was living in the graveyard, I was hanging from the wall

I was living in the desert, I was trying not to fall

Once I stood upon Olympus, then the heavens opened wide

I beheld that flaming chariot and I saw the sacred bride

Now and then my life seems truer, now and then my life seems pure

All in all, my thoughts are fewer — maybe death will be my cure