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 say to have a soul you've got to suffer Well lately I've had my RDA of that And call it fascist but I know that someday happy Will be all that 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 Huxleyâyeah, 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 Red wire: right temple Black wire: left temple Red wire: right temple Black wire: left temple Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com