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four hundred people on this block |
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shaking hands, yes they're doing good |
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cause business is good |
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and being polite makes everything go real smoothly |
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swarms of aunts and uncles with tiny hands |
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crossing roads, looking both ways |
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and weighing the pros and the cons of that step |
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but they'll cross that bridge when they get there |
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i am a totally different person when i'm alone |
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forty-odd thousand, twenty-something tiny dots |
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shuffled into a box |
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where we're sorted and shuffled back |
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with a certified false sense of big bad dot-dom. |
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and we shimmy and shake and vibrate |
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on the same strands of energy we've always been stuck to |
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i'd love to jump across one day |
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try to change states |
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i am a totally different person when i'm alone |
