(no subject)
High winds knocked the power out last night
But I’ve got my own supply here all my windows blaze with light
And the light spills through the windows to the empty plane below
Finds nothing but some trees and three fresh feet of snow
And I find a broadcast station that’s signed off for the night
And the static floods the speakers in glorious black and white
On my ninety six inch television screen
Let me die, let me die surrounded by machines
But I’ve got my own supply here all my windows blaze with light
And the light spills through the windows to the empty plane below
Finds nothing but some trees and three fresh feet of snow
And I find a broadcast station that’s signed off for the night
And the static floods the speakers in glorious black and white
On my ninety six inch television screen
Let me die, let me die surrounded by machines