Their hunched up in a place all unseen Staring at the magazines Drooling with the tick of the clock Can you tell whats real and whats not Hypnotising screens as they recline Barricading most of the sunshine Fingers tapping harder than strychnine Won't see it till its right up to their brow line He never lost his self control The man to whom the world was sold The answers leave him, dissatisfied The answers leave him, dissatisfied Fingers tapping harder than strychnine Won't see it till its right up to their brow line Fingers tapping harder than strychnine Won't see it till its right up to their brow line