Thursday, June 09, 2005

1659

We're hot and tired
Of the regular structure
They call the beat

They call out to us
You'll be back

You'll be the ones
We make wash our socks

We make a lot of money
Breaking down boxes
And manning the doors

And behind the curtains
The little god
Is doing all the thinking

It makes us want to dance
Our way across the plural
The shapely music
Don't even speak English

Everybody's moving to it
Like it's the city
With all the jobs

We stand around in the dark
Reading the backs
And walking across
The broken windows