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 limousine You see me on the TV Radio and the magazine Don't ask me how I feel Or if I'm coming home You say, "Don't go, don't go Don't go to Babylon" Well, hey Joe, I'm already there You 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 me Black plastic discs going round And round and round and round Don't ask me why I changed I never did You say "Don't go, don't go Don't go to Babylon" Well, hey Joe, I'm already there I'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 in Don't talk about the blood Running down my chin Don't ask me how I feel 'Cause I feel fine You say "Don't go, don't go Don't go to Babylon" Well, hey Joe, I'm already there