His world
is under observation
We monitor his station
Under faces and the places
Where he traces points of view
He picks up scraps of conversation
Radio and radiation
From the dancers and romancers
With the answers - but no clue
He’d love to spend the night in Zion
He’s been a long while in Babylon
He’d like a lover’s wings to fly on
To a tropic isle of Avalon
His world is under anaesthetic
Subdivided and synthetic
His reliance on the giants
In the science of the day
He picks up scraps of information
He’s adept at adaptation
‘Cause for strangers and arrangers
Constant change is here to stay
He’s got a force field and a flexible plan
He’s got a date with fate in a black sedan
He plays fast forward for as long as he can
But he won’t need a bed
He’s a digital man
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