That waitress at Pete's who took so long to seat you,
And left you to stand in the doorway,
With her stringy red hair and her thousand-yard stare,
In her mind, she's the Princess of Norway.
As she takes down your order, she's crossing the fjord, her
White stallion spits foam like a madman.
Many Vikings have died trying to take her as bride,
But her heart is reserved for a bad man.
Rich fantasy lives.
Somehow she survives in a world she contrives.
Inhibited husbands and frustrated wives
Lead rich fantasy lives.
That guy from IT ressurects your PC
With a boredom he barely suppresses.
Though he rarely converses, he has more universes
In his head than you've got addresses.
He wargames through weekends, leads armies and legions.
He doesn't care how well you putted.
He's browsing reality's infinite palette, he's
Seen yours, and yours doesn't cut it.
Rich fantasy lives.
He quietly thrives in a world he contrives.
Techno-drone insects in cubicle hives
Lead rich fantasy lives.
We're piling up fears, but we're out of frontiers.
Some need to escape, but there's nowhere.
Can't go to the Moon, at least any time soon,
But an inner-space trip costs you no fare.
So don't be unkind to a wandering mind,
Just say it again if we missed it.
Some whispering poem was calling us home
To a place we know never existed.
Rich fantasy lives.
Our peace-bonded knives and our hyperspace drives.
Until that steam engine to Hogwarts arrives,
We have rich fantasy lives.
Rich fantasy lives.
Our quests and our tribes and our Babylon Fives.
Until something better than this world arrives,
We'll lead rich fantasy lives.
Rich fantasy lives.