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?