wired up to the system is the father

plugging in, cueing up, making digital whoopie

never before in the history of all

has organic and mechanic come together so sweetly

now computing in italics and write protected

reading out - its a boy!

she's faxing and having a baby

the father stumbles to the ground

gasps for air but makes no sound

dies thinking it was impossible

- chorus -

half machine and half of me

wonder what he'll grow to be

the boy don't dig no jazz cos he's joy



hiding out, underground, raving in techno fashion

always out all night cause robots don't sleep

embraced by all of the freaks calling him

the terminator

he gave them piercings for free

part of the scene, a wirey structure

only problem seems, he has no culture

dead stereo panned, joy's mechanical pride

vacuum tubes and vcr's make jill the mechanical bride

- chorus -

look inside his motorola mind

know there's nothing interesting to find

the boy don't dig no jazz cos he's joy



no sense of smell

no change in mood

no sense of taste

joy, he don't need food

he can't be stopped

immune to the digital cancer

no sense at all

joy, the new romancer



look inside his motorola mind

know there's nothing interesting to find

the boy don't dig no jazz cos he's joy!