Pale white moon
Shine down on Colorado
Hide my dirty secrets
Down here in the shadows
Where the quaking aspens
Tremble in the snow
Haul me up the hillside
Hold me high and let me go

Let me fall right through my own roof
Like a meteorite
Let the world and all its wonders
Leave me to my toys tonight
And my ninety six inch
Television screen
Let me die, let me die
Surrounded by machines

High winds knocked
The power out last night
But I’ve got my own supply here
All my windows blaze with light
And the light spills through the windows
To the empty plain below
Finds nothing but some trees
And six fresh feet of snow

And I find a broadcast station
That’s signed off for the night
And the static floods the speakers
In glorious black and white
On my ninety six inch
Television screen
Let me die, let me die
Surrounded by machines