Space Forklift

I see an orange shimmer on the horizon swallowing some airplane pulling an airflag So gravity brought back my banana, but that orange is still millions of miles above me I see the foreign girls colonizing college benches babe I see their Russian burly boyfriends shining comprehensibly I see my own lonely reflection within the very girl I love I see a zigzag embroidered above my family So as a human tractor trailer I push forward into the bright but wild unknown With gasoline up to my eyelids But is it real? Is it real? Is it real? Little Mitchell round my head singing and saying grace And diesel fumes up in my personal space Forklift mirage a foot in front of my mind Its always me behind the controls You can't pull the stops on a one-eyed cop My drop, a drip, a Freudian slip When your mind speed peels out at a hundred and three But view, cus even one I can see Because you can't, you won't, you don't do nothing You don't stay young, true Because you can't, you won't, you don't do nothing You don't stay young, true Babe I see it all the time now in VCR's and passing cars, from VCO's through XLR's But is it real? Is it real? Is it real?