Iron Lung Triathalon
I'm just hoping that they lay you down right:
Arms crossed in the heart of an iron lung.
I'm just hoping that they tuck you in right:
Legs fore-fixed and out of site.
Here it is, second hand:
The speed of wind can kill.
So watch the minute hand.
It's time not wind that wears you down.
Use your mechanical mind.
It's a click of a mouse to put food in your mouth,
Or pull the trash back from the past.
When all the files lose thier name,
No doubt the clocks will blink twelve.
Use your mechanical mind.
It's all about computers, baby. Microprocessors and backside cache. Where's your twisted pair? Where's your twisted pair?
Yeah, I'm calling all iron lungs to the apocalypse.
Techno soundtrack super-computer-tone-kill.
Will you dance with me?
Will you dance?