wired up to the system is the father   plugging in, cueing up, making digital whoopie   never before in the history of all   has organic and mechanic come together so sweetly   now computing in italics and write protected   reading out - its a boy!   she's faxing and having a baby   the father stumbles to the ground   gasps for air but makes no sound   dies thinking it was impossible   - chorus -   half machine and half of me   wonder what he'll grow to be   the boy don't dig no jazz cos he's joy      hiding out, underground, raving in techno fashion   always out all night cause robots don't sleep   embraced by all of the freaks calling him   the terminator   he gave them piercings for free   part of the scene, a wirey structure   only problem seems, he has no culture   dead stereo panned, joy's mechanical pride   vacuum tubes and vcr's make jill the mechanical bride   - chorus -   look inside his motorola mind   know there's nothing interesting to find   the boy don't dig no jazz cos he's joy      no sense of smell   no change in mood   no sense of taste   joy, he don't need food   he can't be stopped   immune to the digital cancer   no sense at all   joy, the new romancer      look inside his motorola mind   know there's nothing interesting to find   the boy don't dig no jazz cos he's joy!