You've exited the freeway
And you're sitting at the light
And the man there with the homeless sign
Is looking right at you
So you fidget with the radio
And pretend to fix your hair
As you're slowly pulling forward
So the mirror blocks your view

Obsessed with the all-seeing eye
We live our lives on film
We've all but given up on private space
This is what you had for lunch
And here you're hanging with your friends
I got to know your breasts
Before I ever saw your face
Open your eyes, get out of bed
You're nearly dead, you're nearly dead

You're crying as the legends die
And I understand the loss
But what about the woman down the block
It was weeks before they discovered her
Because she lived alone
And all that you could manage was
"Well that's the way it goes"
Open your eyes, get out of bed
You're nearly dead, you're nearly dead

Welcome to the world of tomorrow
It's all over now
Pretty fly now rest your head
Sleeping in your water bed
Birdie finally knows you're dead
Crown of hyacinths instead

Waiting for the preacher, pressed against the window pane
Leaning on the everlasting notes of your refrain
Rifle on your knee, you sing the descant all the same
The fly went to the river and was never seen again