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 Huxleyâ€'yeah, 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