Songtext Technology is a dead bird Mars Argo

Technology is a dead bird

Just let me love, let me be
here on the floor.
Flying eastward to the shore,
knowing that the stars wont last in the sky.
I took you to a prison cell,
you were afraid and I could tell
and on a train we met a friend,
who showed us that we should pretend

(I need to be myself again, I know precisely when it is time to be the actor. It is amusing when everything is confusing. Let us be in on the joke the world is afraid to admit or ashamed to confess, or alternatively, eager to expose. How is it that I am all of the above? There's got to be more than denial and trust. Empty bottles are starting to feel less fun, and would deceive us is deceiving.)

Technology is a dead bird in your hands
technology is a dead bird in your hands

we could live in a tree
this isn't any time or place to be
were is my liberty?
this isn't any time or place to be
buried under a tree
this isn't any time or place to
where is my liberty?
this isn't any time or place to

(everyone of us is in our wonder years, wishing we were one year younger. I, I need to get over myself. I'm going to end up on top of a mountain one of these days, if I make it long enough. Sometimes I just want to drift away into outer space.)

we could live in a tree
this isn't any time or place to be
where is my liberty?
this isn't any time or place to be
buried under a tree
this isn't any time or place to
where is my liberty?
this isn't any time or place to