Oh, you did it all by yourself
You must be a genius
Therefore, I needn't bother
To learn this new convenience
Sing, sing a song
Not too weird, not too long
Don't be afraid to use machines
For the only purpose of their making
A million sounds, a billion sounds
Are out there waiting for the taking

Conceived or retrieved

I hope, I hope, I hope
They don't smoke all the dope

I'll pay the piper
When times are riper
But that smartass cop with the bad haircut
Should have been just a little bit nicer
Sing, sing a song
Pass a disk, pass the bong
Residing in the cutout bin
With all my little rivet-head friends now
If riding charts is what you intend
Try not to laugh when you get the fucking bends

Don't believe all the virtual reality hype
What america wants is a digital wipe
They can't put a man on the moon anymore
Took a year to design a fucking shuttle door
That's right. 'Space 1999' reruns, anyone?
That's right. You suck!