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