This side of the '85 sun

If I had bothered to record the minutiae of my life
every fleeting sense of wonder and delight
the prime of my content would require twenty years descent
because nothing impresses me much this side of '85

So I made myself a time machine by trying to save traces
I mummified my childhood in bubbles and boxes and cases

I've bought and sold fortunes and compiled enormous collections
of awesome alien Volkswagens from various other dimensions
But I'd really rather go back again to one year after I turned ten
When all I had was four robot toys and a lot of imagination

All my sense of wonder lost, all the time I wish undone
I wish they made a time machine so I could see the '85 sun

I am pointlessly preserving these childhood fascinations
But all this retroactive consumption does not resurrect my inspiration
I have more than I ever had, but I still have less than then
Despite countless Rubbermaid totes of nostalgic overcompensation

All my meat is robot meat, my blood is robot blood
I belong in a time machine orbiting an '85 sun