“Fever Dream And A Hermit Crab” by Moon Glow

“Just good ol’ fashioned grown / Lunacy is up for grabs.”

That line may as well be the thesis of Fever Dream And A Hermit Crab, a genre-defiant dive into the wonderfully absurd and deeply existential songwriting of Samuel E Burns, performed by the enigmatic Moon Glow. This piece reads and sounds like something beamed in from a parallel America — one soaked in maple syrup, drenched in hot sauce, haunted by silver spoons, and echoing with the laughter of cats.

From the opening lines, we're launched into a disorienting headspace: “Digging in deep / Sneaking suspicion / Big fever dream / Strange condition.” There’s no easing in — you’re immediately submerged. And once the cheese and hot sauce hit, you know this isn’t your typical indie rock track. It’s closer to spoken-word poetry set to a dream-pop soundtrack at 3AM, with subconscious fragments floating by like old furniture in a flooded basement.

The lyrics dance between the absurd and the eerily familiar. “Peanut butter on oysters / That’s a sign” shouldn’t make sense, but in this universe, it does — and it becomes a refrain, anchoring the listener in the song’s thematic whirlpool. It’s a track that knows it’s weird and leans in hard, but never loses emotional resonance.

There’s social decay lurking under the nonsense: “Diseases in the air / I’m feelin' fine” hits especially hard in a post-pandemic world, while “Bad parenting too late” punches through with tragic clarity. The piece moves like a dream where everything is symbolic, but nothing is explained. The Renaissance fading into “strange old games” speaks to a cyclical history — beauty devolving into ritual, progress into repetition.

The final section is where the title earns its weight. The line “Move into your skull, a hermit crab, in too deep” is brilliant — a metaphor for isolation, retreat, and living in borrowed thoughts. It’s surreal, yes, but it also captures the suffocating interiority of overthinking in a crumbling world.

There’s also a kind of reluctant comfort here: the world may be bland (“Mayo’ slopped, unseasoned”), but it’s our weird little world. And the closing lines — “Let the fever dream begin… I’ll be here waiting, so come back for more.” — feel like both an invitation and a warning.

Fever Dream And A Hermit Crab isn’t just a song — it’s an immersive poetic experience, equal parts absurdist comedy and existential reflection. Fans of artists like Tom Waits, David Byrne, or The Microphones will feel right at home in this fevered landscape.