Text:
Byrne David David Byrne

The Western lands Day turns to Night Immaterial play of light It's very nice out here Poked my hand in a hornet's nest They flew out around my face I

Somewhere between the darkness and light The faces all glow but it's not too bright Civilization, it's all about knives and forks Isn't she here? What

Picture this Bumping lips Everyone talks Do a dialogue box They shake and bake Make a cranky face They got rocks in the head Got rocks in the bed Pull

In national elections In songs raised on high With stirring emotions As tears fill your eyes In democratic fever For national defense I am a mountain

I introduce you to my friends & that's the last I see of you All the world's discovered my big secret Everyone's in love with you They're fascinated

Number 1, try to walking quickly be Number 2, count to ten, smile, count to ten Number 3, big shoes Number 4, watching big shoes Number 5, buying things

I'm glad I've got skin, I'm glad I've got eyes I'm glad I got hips, I'm glad I've got thighs I'm glad I'm allowed to say the things I feel I'm glad Igot

Now, I'm wakin' at the crack of dawn To send a little money home from here to the moon Is risin' like a discotheque And now my bags are down and packed

The dimming of the light makes the picture clearer It?s just an old photograph, there?s nothing to hide When the world was just beginning. I memorized