Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

There are times I think eternal life

Ain't such a bad gig

Smoke all you want and see the planets

If and only if they find a way to cure the longing

The distant panic

Someday, I'm telling you

They'll make a memory machine

To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen

To wash away the grief

Someday, I'm telling you

They'll make a memory machine

To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen

To wash away the grief

There are folks that think to have a soul

You gotta suffer

Well, lately I've had my RDA of that

And call it fascist, but I know that someday happy

Will be all the matters

Someday, I'm telling you

They'll make a memory machine

To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen

To wash away the grief

Someday, I'm telling you

They'll make a memory machine

To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen

To wash away the grief

Poetry, Aldous Huxley

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it'll be a relief

If they can make machines to save us labor

Someday they'll do our hearts the very same favor

The wails of ruined lives brought to a halt by

The serene hum of computers in air-conditioned vaults, yeah

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple

Red wire, right temple

Black wire, left temple