Rushing on a plane of light
the screens that flared from blue to white
so do it if it feels all right
the illusion the sense of flight
the signal does not need a plug
it’s wireless heads so pass the jug
and give the frontal lobe a tug
You feel it now you’ve got the bug
stretch out your arms you’re king of cliché
I never wanted to be big anyway
As long as Simon can come out and play
he says I do guess who will have to pay
The feeling may come down with power and might
I might receive the gift of second sight
I made my bed baby I picked my fight
If only I could tell to you that sense of flight
What is the song of the day?
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