I'm riding on a thin white line
Standing in the doorway of cloud nine
And you see me in the window
Of a chauffeured limousineYou see me on the TV
Radio and the magazine
Don't ask me how I feel
Or if I'm coming homeYou say, "Don't go, don't go
Don't go to Babylon"
Well, hey Joe, I'm already thereYou can hear me for a million miles
I'm surrounded by a thousand dials
And what I want to see
Is a million more of meBlack plastic discs going round
And round and round and round
Don't ask me why I changed
I never didYou say "Don't go, don't go
Don't go to Babylon"
Well, hey Joe, I'm already thereI'm flying on a thin white line
Standing in the doorway of what's mine
Please, don't you try and stop me from going inDon't talk about the blood
Running down my chin
Don't ask me how I feel
'Cause I feel fineYou say "Don't go, don't go
Don't go to Babylon"
Well, hey Joe, I'm already there