It’s Test-tube Baby, television’s child...
Born electric, growing wild.
AC woman, DC man,
Computerized embryo, automatic hand.
Plugged-in people, rollercoaster life,
9-to-5 husband, occasional wife.
Freon-headed children, running all around...
Generator’s broken and they all fall down.
It’s Modern Dilemmas, don’t know what to say,
Don’t want to believe it, got to live it anyway.
It’s Modern Dilemmas, and you don’t know what to do...
Try to tune them out they gonna tune back into you.
I guess we could be buried in a can in Outer Space,
No more room, on Earth, here, to plant the Human Race.
The land is all cement, now, with iron for the trees,
Blood that runs like water, and ashes on the breeze.
The Chosen Ones are dying, they pulled the plug, I know.
Terra is forgotten... to Outer Space we go!
It’s Modern Dilemmas, Life is changing fast.
You better grab the moment, you know it cannot last.
It’s Modern Dilemmas, each day there’s something new...
Try to tune them out they gonna tune back into you!
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