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
