THE BOOB IN THE BUBBLE

It was a week day
The coffee was heating
And the toaster on the side with its load
There was a bright light
A smattering of rice krispies
A burned-out celeb marriage transpired from the radio

These are the days of miracle and wonder
My everyday morning call
The way the cat meow follows me in slo-mo
To my briefcase in the hall
The way I check for the weather information
What's lying in the corner of the sky?
These are the days of miracle and wonder
Must fly baby, must fly, must fly

There was a chill wind
And it swept across the bus stop
And it swirled into the absence of mirth
Outer 'burb land
Squalling young schoolchildren
The mothers and the fathers
Their extraordinary girth

These are the days of miracle and wonder
My workaday wake-up call
Smart-data cameras follow us in remo'
The way they look at us all
The way we look to a vigilant invasion
That probes in every corner of our lives
These are the days of miracle and wonder
Husbands, babies and wives, and wives

It's a turn-around mugshot
It's every fail and false start
It's every small occasion puts a zoom lens on my pri-parts
Flatulence is digital and digital is fart
Scan your baby in the bubble, see and hear its beating heart

And I believe
These are the days of lawyers in the jungle
Testimonies bungled somewhere
Video signals witness abomination
It is my supplication that billionaires and trillionaires get rabies

These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is your last wake-up call
The way we're forced to swallow all the promos
The way we suck, to them all
The way we look to a distant TV station
Trying to give some meaning to our lives
These are the days of miracle and wonder
But thought thrives baby, thought thrives, thought thrives, survives