Message in a bottle, rhythm of a drum Smoke signals and telegraphs make the airwaves hum But that‘s all ancient history like bongs and Lincoln Logs Now we livin‘ like the Jetsons in a wireless wacky fog Squawkin‘ talkin‘ hawkin‘ who knows if anybody‘s gettin‘ through Toasters talk to crackberries, Bombay to L.A. Teenage needs and long-held dreams as minutes tick away We act like crazy people talking to ourselves Crashing cars in conversation while that shit flies off the shelf The information superhighways locked up like a L.A. traffic jam Everybody‘s on the phone So connected and all alone From the pizza boy to the socialite We all salute the satellites Let me text you with your master plan You‘re loud and clear but I don‘t understand I‘m a digital explorer in analog roam And everybody‘s on the phone Do you remember dialing up? Yes I remember well Now I just can‘t go anywhere with out my sacred cell I think tha编辑于2008/07/23更新