I've seen the airports by and by, I don't have to call you on the phone, I've only got to talk to your machine, I try to keep the message short and neat and clean.I'm sure this sounded quite absurd, I know what you say, the magic word, turn the love of the phone down with regret, I haven't learned to do it slowly yet.You leave a message by the machine, it's really quite an art, your voice comes out, there's a beat, but then it's time to start, it's hard to get the words out through the pounding of my heart.I never seem to say just what I mean, I'm tempted to believe in all I've seen, when it comes to pretending I want to shout, it's because I know that time is running out.I'm not so good at playing fable scenes, and it makes you crazy talking to machines, and it makes you crazy talking to machines.