12. The Digital Cuckoo.
A technophobe rails against electronic clocks. ...
The digital cuckoo
Ushers in the spring
I must admit
I kind of miss
The way he used to sing, he used to sing
One day, we’ll play
With tennis rackets made of wood
And footballs of brown leather
We’ll fly our little plane on one propeller
All these things have changed for good
For good but not for better
For good, but not for better
Forever changing
Is that man of great ambition
Deaf and blindly raging
To be held in one position
But when I exercise my feet
I like to recognise my street
I’ve become so well acquainted with my prison
The digital rooster
Welcomes in the day
I must confess
I love him less
Each time I wake this way..I wake this way
One day, we’ll play
With tennis rackets made of wood
And footballs of brown leather
We’ll fly our little plane on one propeller
All these things have changed for good
For good but not for better
For good, but not for better
Forever changing
Is that man of great ambition
Deaf and blindly raging
To be held in one position
But when i exercise my feet
I like to recognise my street
I’ve become so well acquainted with my prison