| Dying to feel alive in electronic love
|
| A sense of belonging orbiting above
|
| A true human voice listened in the flesh
|
| Old fashioned rendezvous, the new-age spirit quest
|
| Isolation, romance the stone with
|
| Information, pick up the phone
|
| Can anybody hear me? |
| Is there anyone there?
|
| The lost art of touch, the voyeuristic plague
|
| Junk-food melodies stroke your hidden rage
|
| Hands-free rality, pleasure is a must
|
| When it’s just you and machin, there’s no need for trust
|
| Isolation, no place like home
|
| Validation, throw me a bone
|
| Can anybody hear me? |
| Is there anyone there?
|
| Can anybody hear me? |
| Is there anyone there?
|
| And when the gold wears off, what
|
| What will we be?
|
| Just a mix of metals at the bottom of the sea
|
| Alone at the bottom of the sea
|
| Isolation, romance the stone with
|
| Information, pick up the phone
|
| Can anybody hear me? |
| Is there anyone there?
|
| Can anybody hear me? |
| Is there anyone there? |