Bodies all a-flailing
Here in the moshes of the pits
The marshes of swamped wits
Refugees of the city
Of the... technology

Skyscraper, shadow over me
Concrete prison street
Urban glossy institutes
Lab rats in business suits
No roots will grow here

Technology
all about me
Technology
all about me

Stop sign bright and red
And arbitrary
It does not mark a pause,
For it is a sign of life's speediness
Which has left them necessary

Those turning wheels
Modern quintessence
Yet old as man exists
Archetypal apparatus
Speeding away in the incandescence

Technology
all about me
Technology
all about me

Rods and cogs of suburbs
Frankenstein cyborgs
The metrics of the metro.
I'm surrounded
I'm surrounded
I'm surrounded
That radio grasps me
Transmits its sway
Its appetite growing
They're a part of me
Limbed apparatuses

A mechanical man. With a mechanical life.
And mechanical wife, all full
technological—that's right
Matrimony in the metro.

Those wheels keep turning
the gears in my mind turning
mechanisms of the heart turning
pulses in the liver burning.
Those wheels keep turning
the gears in my mind turning
mechanisms of the heart turning
pulses in the liver burning
overloaded.
A sensorium conundrum

Where's that body of yours? I need that love of yours
Let's get past the smoke. Let's get the flames
There's that klanking about us, a swirling city
Of too much revolving
Can we find a centre? Can we be a still point?
Can we screen it out,
and start dissolving,
mortal solubles
mortal solubles
something tangible
get to
get to