I live on the highway Near the Puppet Motel I log in every day I know the neighborhood well. No about the residents Of the Puppet Motel They're more than a little spooky And most of them are mean. They're runnin' the numbers They're playin' cops and robbers Down in the dungeons Inside their machines. Cause they don't know What's really real now they're havin' fourth dimentional dreams Their minds are out on bail now And real is only what it seems. And all the puppets in this digital jail They're runnin' around in a frenzy In search of the Holy Grail. They're havin' virtual sex. They're eatin' virtual food. No wonder these puppets Are always in a lousy mood. So if you think we live in a modern world Where everything is clean and swell Take a walk on the B side of town Down by the Puppet Motel Take a whiff. Burning Plastic. I drink a cup of coffee I try to revive My mind's a blank I'm barely alive My nerves are shot I feel like hell Guess it's time to check in At the Puppet Motel. Boot up. Good afternoon. Pause