Hanging by the threads and soaking in the squalor X’s on the walls Don’t check the living rooms or city halls Check the freeway Check the gutter Check the prison Check the weather Then bury the remains at the truck stop The furnace is roaring bright but their hands are tied Ten footprints disappear into the night A train of though derailed and recaptured Then a rupture results from tiny cracks on the inside The cities rise and highways lead A mass of citizens caught in between Executives and amputees We’re inside still trapped inside with no way out It’s a critical mass of younger minds Taking up space taking up time Falling short of projected design Made up for it in volume size Can the resource be tapped to re-energize And fill the gaps inform hold back Keep the peace or launch the sneak attack Crushing the world with one hand behind our backs The cities rise and highways lead A mass of citizens caught in between Executives and amputees
