|
Lights on the bridges and a smokestack far away
|
Smoke turns to indigo in the ending business day
|
The taxicabs' assault on the potholed asphalt
|
They parry and lunge 'neath the thin winter sun who's
|
Painting the bedroom grey
|
|
Computer Mage, the plastic age
|
Someday all this will be a road
|
"Where will it take us?"
|
"It's got seventeen lanes."
|
"Where will it run?"
|
"It's an interstate parkway."
|
"Where will it go?"
|
"It's a boot print of progress."
|
"Where will it take us?"
|
"It's gonna be a road, be a road."
|
|
"Domesticated primates," the Leary Convict sez
|
Sewn up together in paper foil like a pack of Pez, of course,
|
School was a fine bunch of rehashed lines, there was
|
Nothing really said, I could have stayed home in bed and watched
|
Reruns of Desi Arnaz
|
|
"Time is just a concept," sez Einstein's kid, the dunce.
|
"People's way of keeping everything from happening at once
|
Overtake the light, and time is in your sight
|
And black holes bend the beams so nothing's where it seems and
|
Finding out the truth could take you months."
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Someday All This Will Be Road
|
| Spin Doctors |
