Pale white moon shines 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 right 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 my 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 plane below
Finds nothing but some trees and three 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

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