Washing machines, Space age dream
let me serve you, keep me clean
rinse me plain, spin me sane
I'll trust my dirt to only you.

Automobile see me kneel
I'll scrub your back
I'll buy your meal
I'll choke your start
I'll warm your heart
I''l dream of dying just with you.

(I've) got no time
(I'm) not inclined to hum a song
just like a robot waiting for a fuse
I'm too crazy to even have the blues.

Instant poetry
too hot to be continued next week
Instant poetry
too slow to be tongue in cheek.

TV syndrome, Holy custon
millions squeeze you to their bosom
you're alway welcome, drive out boredom
your one eye's all the art we need.

(c) Tekst & Muziek : Georges Kooyman / B. Hay