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Beck - Cellphone's dead
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Strange ways coming today
I put a dollar in my pocket
And I threw it away
Been a long time
Since a federal dime
Made a jukebox sound
Like a mirror in my mind
Control my worries
Fix my thoughts
Throw my hopes
Like a juggernaut walks
Now let-down souls
Can´t feel no rhythm
Sorry entertainers
Like aerobics victims
Hybrid people
Light a wooded matchstick
Toxic fumes and the
Burning plastic
Beats are broken
Bones are spastic
Boombox talkin´
With a southern accent
Voodoo curses
Bible tongues
Voices comin´
From the mangled lungs
Give me some grits
Some get-down shit
Don´t need a good reason
To let anything rip

Radio´s cold
Solar´s infected
One by one
I´ll knock you out
God is alone
Hardware defective
One by one
I´ll knock you out

Mr. Microphone making
All the damage felt
Like a laser manifesto
Make a mannequin melt
There´s people phonin´ in
Like it´s unlimited minutes
Going through the motions
Just to savor they did it
Treadmill´s running
Underneath their feet
So they feel like they´re going somewhere
But they´re not
So let´s put boots
On the warehouse floor
Comin´ to you
Like a rope on a chainstore
Throwing equipment
From a moving van
Grab a microphone
Like a utility man
Now fix the beat
Now break the rest
Make a kick drum sound
Like an S.O.S.
Get a tow-truck
Cause it´s after dark
And the dance floor´s full
But everybody´s double-parked!

Cell phone´s dead
Lost in the desert
One by one
I´ll knock you out
Eye of the sun
Is out of its socket
One by one
I´ll knock you out
One by one

This jam is real... that´s right

Eye of the sun
Eye of the sun
Eye of the sun

Ahhhhhhhhhh