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 anesthetic
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
Because 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