Eight tracks. One room. No one knows which one comes next. I woke up somewhere between the stations Between the signal and the static Everybody's talking in different directions But nobody's saying where we're going I got a head full of old transmissions A pocket full of broken change A television speaking to the ceiling And a photograph that knows my name Where are we going? Where are we going? Don't ask me I'm only passing through There's a light outside the window But it isn't coming in There's a voice inside the machine Telling everybody when Move your feet Keep your head down Don't look left Don't turn around We built the tower We built the wire We fed the little box And called it desire Can you feel it? Can you feel it? Can you feel it underneath? Everybody wants a little piece Everybody wants the perfect view Everybody wants to feel alive But nobody wants to tell the truth Feel it... Feel it... Feel it underneath... So turn it up Turn it down Turn it inside out Turn— turn— turn— inside— inside— out— There's a shadow in the playground There's a warning in the rain We keep handing down the answers Then pretending we're surprised What did we give them? What did we leave? What did we teach them To believe? What did we leave? Drive into the morning Drive until the road disappears Leave the city in the mirror Leave the last twenty years No destination No explanation Just a signal on the radio Go... Go... Go... Freeze. Break. Disappear. Repeat. Don't disappear... Maybe somewhere there's a place Where the noise can't reach us Maybe somewhere there's a road That doesn't lead us back Maybe we can close our eyes And let the world keep turning Maybe we can disappear Without becoming lost I don't need another answer I just need somewhere to breathe Somewhere to breathe... Plastic dreams in a plastic town Everybody smiling while the walls come down Glass eyes Bright lights Cheap thrills Long nights We painted over everything Until nobody could see See— see— see— But underneath the surface There's another frequency Eight songs. Eight versions. One machine. One machine... And somewhere in the noise... ...there's still a human voice.
