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 whos
Painting the bedroom grey

Computer mage, the plastic age
Someday all this will be a road
Where will it take us?
Its got seventeen lanes.
Where will it run?
Its an interstate parkway.
Where will it go?
Its a boot print of progress.
Where will it take us?
Its 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 einsteins kid, the dunce.
Peoples way of keeping everything from happening at once
Overtake the light, and time is in your sight
And black holes bend the beams so nothings where it seems and
Finding out the truth could take you months.