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The Stupids
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1
On a canvas of brake lights, street signs and garbage cans
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He's a face without a name, with a pair of outstretched hands
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And me I'm just an asshole living in a priviledged life
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Wondering why these modern conveniences don't make me alive
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Ever get the feeling that there's nothing you can do?
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Ever start to wonder if you're just acting out a role written for you?
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Living in with these lonely alibis and weekly wages
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Our homes, our jobs, our lives, our cages
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There's a girl staring out of her window into a rainy night
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Thinking of the prices that she pays, the self-loathing and sacrifice
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And meanwhile I pace this lonely office space for another 8 hour night
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Asking myself how to work to stay alive could be called a life
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Ever get the feeling that this world's written you off?
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Ever get the feeling you're imprisoned by expectations and jobs?
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Dreary morning, city bus, sea of dejected faces
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Our homes, our jobs, our lives, our cages
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