i can't believe it, the way you look sometimes, like a trampled flag
  on a city street, oh yeah, and i don't want it, the things you're
  offering me, symbolized bar code, quick i.d., oh yeah, i'm a 21st
  century digital boy, i don't know how to live (or read) but i've got a
  lot of toys, my daddy is a lazy middle class intellectual, my mommy's
  on valium, she's so ineffectual, ain't life a mystery? i can't explain
  it, the things they're saying to me, it's going yayayayayayaya, oh
  yeah, i tried to tell you about no control, but now i really don't
  know, and then you told me how bad you had to suffer, is that really
  all you have to offer?