Rush

His world is under observation --
We monitor his station
Under faces and the places
Where he traces points of view
He picks up scraps of conversation --
Radio and radiation
From the dancers and romancers
With the answers -- but no clue
He'd love to spend the night in Zion
He's been a long while in Babylon
He'd like a lover's wings to fly on
To a tropic isle of Avalon
His world is under anaesthetic --