Impatient, stationed somewhere near the border just between
Hurried youth and static ends.
There’s not much here to defend
The radio’s pushing the orders (cross the border!)
Don’t let me through!
Cause we’re just clearing the way for the suitors of our future

Dress me up in proper clothes
For naked men, it’s far too cold
And if these rags just hide the mold
Of stale desires, then send me home

If there’s not a place for you and me
In tomorrow’s society
Will it hurt you if we wait behind as I fail to find faith?
So here’s to not squinting to see my reflection
In some upscale corporate blight

Caught between wanting to do the right thing
And not knowing what the right thing is:
I guess this is how loneliness feels.

So throw a rope around the dreamers
For they might stray too far
Be careful what you feed the children
Or else they’ll grow kind hearts
Train the ones for the mean machine
Interchangeable, though sad it seems