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