VOL. XIX, NO. 12
MAY 19, 1978
Horizon
BY KEVIN BUSCH
An electric eye shines out from the box,
With white winged bats destroying plastic air,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks.
Prisoners of progress and future shock,
We are caught in a web of sin and despair;
An electric eye shines out from the box.
The demon is a Mid‑East oil fox
Drinking French wine and stealing our snares,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks,
We pray to the highway and sonic rocks
That carve the sky and bow to glass towers;
An electric eye shines out from the box.
The razor is so close, I feel it's black
Doom hovering, awakening my dead hair,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks.
But some day I'll become the Horizon, stuck
Six feet under, and I'll see down there
An electric eye, shining from the box,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks.
An electric eye shines out from the box,
With white winged bats destroying plastic air,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks.
Prisoners of progress and future shock,
We are caught in a web of sin and despair;
An electric eye shines out from the box.
The demon is a Mid‑East oil fox
Drinking French wine and stealing our snares,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks,
We pray to the highway and sonic rocks
That carve the sky and bow to glass towers;
An electric eye shines out from the box.
The razor is so close, I feel it's black
Doom hovering, awakening my dead hair,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks.
But some day I'll become the Horizon, stuck
Six feet under, and I'll see down there
An electric eye, shining from the box,
Infected by the lice from Medea's locks.