Pale white moon shine
Down on Colorado
Hide my dirty secrets
Down here in the shadows
Where the quaking aspens
Tremble in the snow
Haul me up the hillside
Hold me high and let me go
Let me fall down through my own roof like a meteorite
Let the world and all its wonders leave me to my toys tonight
And my ninety-six inch
Television screen
Let me die, let me die
Surrounded by machines
High winds knocked the power out last night
But I've got my own supply here
All my windows blaze with light
And the light spills through the windows
To the empty plain below
Finds nothing but some trees
And six fresh feet of snow
And I find a broadcast station that's signed off for the night
And the static floods the speakers in glorious black and white
On my ninety-six inch television screen
Let me die, let me die
Surrounded by machines