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BLOATED MONKEY - Playin' My Atari


It's 12 a.m. I wake up screaming: that same old dream again.
I have to save my friends from the aliens.
Turn on the TV and switch the box from antenna to my machine:
Joystick in my hand, I'm a happy man.

I see them attack in rows of six by eight as I prepare to go to war.
I start again every time I die. I've got to beat my high score.

Playing my Atari: I've got Pac-man on the brain.
Playing my Atari: the only thing that keeps me sane.
I don't see a reason to be ashamed or sorry
for playing my Atari.

My mother says, ""It's time for dinner,"" but I don't really care.
I just proclaim, ""I can't save my game!""
My thumb is callused, my hands are cramped, and all I do is stare.
I've played each day through, since 1982.

One hundred and twenty eight bytes of pure power and speed,
It may not be quite the state of the art, but it's exactly what I need.

Playing my Atari: I've got Pac-man on the brain.
Playing my Atari: the only thing that keeps me sane.
It's a one-on no one virtual safari.
I'm playing my Atari.