Seems to me that most of the problems in the human world come down to a refusal to sit down and talk together.

Well I’m ninety four percent emotional 
Six percent logical 
And I’d like to get to know you
But I see difficulties ahead.
Because you only speak binary
Which might as well be martian to me
You see my brain is made of water mainly
And on a dry, hot, sunny day like this

In a desert 
A long way from anywhere
I’m a washed up sinner
With a dried out skin
And I don’t think 
No I don’t think
I’ll get to know you
Anytime soon

Well your fifty eight percent culpable 
I’m forty two percent alcohol
And we’re not really capable
Of very much, I suspect
But at this moment in history
There’s only you, and only me
And we have to talk
Yes we have to talk
Or we’re all gonna die

In this desert
A long way from anywhere
I’m a washed up sinner
With a dried out skin
And I don’t think 
No I don’t think
I’ll get to know you
Anytime soon

Because the numbers don’t stack up
It’s a shame
We’re gonna mess it up
What a shame
But at least we’re talking now
What’s your name?

And do you think it’s gonna
Do you think it’s gonna 
Do you think it’s gonna rain?    

In this desert 
A long way from anywhere
We are washed up sinners
With dried out skin
And I don’t think 
No I don’t think

Do you think it’s gonna rain?   
Do you think it’s gonna rain?   
Do you think it’s gonna rain?   
Do you think it’s gonna rain?