Hot Space
Red, green, blue, yellow
Cubes compressed to two dimensions
Chuck Berry sings -
Only on television
Where one day we'll all go to die
Yellow trousers, Saturday Night Live
I wonder if lemons will evolve
And if so, into what?
Perhaps a cure for cancer: aid for all!
A raucous guitar enters
The bongos play full speed
Will this cocaine groove ever calm?
I'm too high to care
And sex enters the mind
Once again, blame the tube
Effervescent signals
Keep us wired - sleep is for the weak?
Hot space, hot space
Please God no!
Don't make me listen to hot space.
Red, green, blue, yellow:
It's that woman from that film,
You know the one - with the mousse
Well how she went downhill
Not at all like me.
The drums always clash
And there's noise in the air
But when voices fill the landscape
We find some relief
Harmonies swell the frequencies
And finally some relief.
To be someone
Reject something
Then take it back
And start again
Red, green, blue, yellow
Hot space, hot space
Please God no! no! no!
Don't make me listen to that again...
