Through seas of countless choices I'm chosen once again
To fill the air with crafted sound....
You give me space, in your space, a window in your time
At a level which your soul allows

But when I look around
We seem tired of all this....

We flick the GPS on now to find our pastures new
Follow directions on the screen
And find our way to something we never knew was there
And keep it on our machines

But when I look around
We seem tired, uninspired by all we have to choose
And each day there are more new people at the door
They wave their products in our faces
We've heard it all before!

Through dislocating TV and the glossy-printed word
We sample culture in small spoons
We think we know that riff but where in the world?
Did we ever hear that nagging tune?

But when I look around
We seem tired, uninspired by all we have to choose
And each day there are more new people at the door
They wave their products in our faces
We've heard it all before!