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 say 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
red wire: right temple
black wire: left temple
red wire: right temple
black wire: left temple