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Rush right out like horses onto the track
Quite unaware of the riders on our back.
Taking prods and kicks like kisses from our friends.
As we round the bend our eyes fixed on the end.
We all want the wreath around our necks
Those flowers on our chest
Someone to lie in our beds
And when the dust fills up my lungs
I will be there at the end.
And when my legs crumble under my weight
I will be there at the end.
Looking up from a thousand feet blow
The surface is bright.
I put my shoes on at the door
And walk out onto the floor
under mechanism more than my will
The machines moan like sleeping monks
Just flip a switch to begin
and let the blood move like traffic again
All the girls look like they're under glass
Their faces pale and cold
Just sad enough to make me want them all
And the boys are like statues too
They never move.
They're models of the modern cool.
Looking up from a thousand feet blow
The surface is bright.