One hundred years from now See the chrome, can't hear it move I'll meet you on the way down Wrapped around somebody's hand We've all moved on from here The colour's running dry A drowsy line of wasted time Bathes my open mind
This strange machinery Is keeping you from seeing me I'll meet you on the way down Can't stay, unbearable to go
We've all moved on from here The color's running dry A drowsy line of wasted time Bathes my open mind Aah, aah-ah Aah, aah-ah
