Drowning here in Summer’s Cauldron
Under mats of flower lava
Please don’t pull me out
This is how I would want to go
Breathing in the boiling butter
Fruit of sweating golden inca
Please don’t heed my shout
I’m relax in the undertow
When Miss Moon lays down
And Sir Sun stands up
Me, I’m found floating round and round
Like a bug in brandy
In this big bronze cup
Drowning here in Summer’s Cauldron
Eh!
Trees are dancing drunk with nectar
Grass is waving underwater
Please don’t pull me out
This is how I would want to go
Insect bomber Buddhist droning
Copper chord of August’s organ
Please don’t heed my shout
I’m relax in the undertow
When Miss Moon lays down (in her hilltop bed)
And Sir Sun stands up (raise his regal head)
Me I’m found floating round and round
Like a bug in brandy
In this big bronze cup
Drowning here in Summer’s Cauldron
Partridge was at loggerheads with Rundgren throughout the making of the album. But eventually conceded it worked out well. Rundgren on the other hand, seems still to be rather sour about the whole experience.