Red wire: Right temple Black wire: Left temple Red wire: Right temple Black wire: Left temple
There are times I think Eternal life ain't such a bad gig Smoke all you want And see the planets If and only if They find a way to cure The longing The distant panic
Someday, I'm telling you They'll make a memory machine To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen To wash away the grief
Someday, I'm telling you They'll make a memory machine To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen To wash away the grief
There are folks that think To have a soul you've got to suffer Well, lately I've had My RDA of that And call it fascist But I know that someday Happy Will be all that matters
Someday, I'm telling you They'll make a memory machine To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen To wash away the grief
Someday, I'm telling you They'll make a memory machine To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen To wash away the grief
Poetry, Aldous Huxley-yeah, yeah, yeah It'll be a relief
If they can make machines To save us labor Someday they'll do our hearts The very same favor The wails of ruined lives Brought to a halt by the Serene hum of computers In air-conditioned vaults, yeah!
Red wire: Right temple Black wire: Left temple Red wire: Right temple Black wire: Left temple
