Space forklifts

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?