The current affair gets to be my business
I heard the news on the radio:
The sun on earth... what is this?
Is that the way that the crazy goes?
Attention tuned to the satellites
Looking down for an overview
In the chapel of space we are acolytes
In the battle of time we're all soldiers too
And the relative choir push the energy higher
Under fire
The sliding show in the macroscopic
Finger on the bu*ton pointing to progress
The apparatus roll, no-one here can stop it
Too busy learning more – always knowing less
Soon turkey-wrapped in the spaceman blanket
We'll offer up lame duck apologies
And settle down for the final banquet
The gourmet dish of technology...
Cryogenic device catches all human life
Under ice
The current affair gets to be all our businness
It's filtered in through the T.V. screen
The norm, the average... what is this?
When it goes blank what does that all mean?
And what's the drive of each individual?
And what's the way that the story ends?
Is it Mr X, left as the last residual
Holder of the flame, conscience of all men?
But he's so tense to expire
He throws himself on the wire
Under fire
Is this the way the world ends?
Under ice
Under fire?
Has there been some mistaken design?
Under ice
Got to find the human voice
Lord, deliver us from Babel