| Falling from the top floor your lungs
|
| fill like parachutes
|
| windows go rushing by.
|
| people inside,
|
| dressed for the funeral in black and white.
|
| These ties strangle our necks, hanging in the closet,
|
| found in the cubicle;
|
| without a name, just numbers, on the resume stored in the mainframe,
|
| marked for delete.
|
| please take these hands
|
| throw them in the river,
|
| wash away the things they never held
|
| please take these hands,
|
| throw me in the river,
|
| dont let me drown before the workday ends.
|
| 9 to 5! |
| 9 to 5!
|
| and we’re up to our necks,
|
| drowning in the seconds,
|
| ingesting the morning commute
|
| lost in a dead subway sleep
|
| Now we lie wide awake in our parents beds,
|
| tossing and turning.
|
| tomorrow we’ll get up
|
| drive to work,
|
| single file
|
| with everyday
|
| it’s like the last.
|
| waiting for the life to start, is it always just always ahead of the curve?
|
| please take these hands
|
| throw them in the river,
|
| wash away the things they never held
|
| please take these hands,
|
| throw me in the river,
|
| dont let me drown before the workday ends.
|
| just keep making copies
|
| of copies
|
| of copies
|
| when will it end?
|
| it’ll never end,
|
| 'til it gets so bad
|
| that the ink fills in our fingerprints
|
| and the silouhette of your own face becomes the black cloud of war
|
| and even in our dreams we’re so afraid the weight will offset who we are
|
| all those breaths that you took have now been canceled in your lungs.
|
| last night my teeth fell out like ivory typewriter keys
|
| and all the monuments and skyscrapers burned down and filled the sea.
|
| save our ship
|
| the anchor is part of the desk
|
| we can’t cut free,
|
| the water is flooding the decks
|
| the memo’s sent through the currents
|
| computers spark like flares
|
| i can see them.
|
| they don’t touch me,
|
| touch me.
|
| please someone,
|
| teach me how to swim.
|
| please, don’t let me drown,
|
| please, don’t let me drown. |