See you through the machine
I see that red recording light
I see her electronic-cog-wheeling magnetic
Throught the window it sees her upside down
then through so-called technology
it seems to flip you around

At night here the stars here can't be seen by this machine
At night here it's cold here the fog around your ankles
She makes that face like that girl from unpopular cinema
But that robot boy
he's camera shy
he's camera terrible

And you Mr. Director take us downtown at sunset
There behind the alleyway where the crust punks hang out

If I could fly a high spy plane
In the atmosphere
Could I see my camera
Could I see yo Mr Director and your sister
That makes you a posey