Take a little dope.
And walk out in the air.
The stars are all connected to the brain.
Find me a woman and lay down on the ground.
Her pleasure comes falling down like rain.
Get myself a car, I feel power as I fly.
Oh now I’m really in control.
It all looks fine to the naked eye.
But it don’t really happen that way at all.
Don’t happen that way at all.

Naked Eye
The Who (1974), Who’s Next (1995 reissue)