Everybody's pissy. An eleven foot cluster lacking the camaraderie communities foster and the breakbeat drumbeat bleakly repeats our bleating, "I GIVE NOTHING! I ASK FOR EVERYTHING!" We push.
When the feeding begins, where are you gonna be? 'Cause I'll be damned if anybody's getting fed before me. I know we're sharing a trough, I know we're moving along but it feels like falling down and I lost what I started to stay. I kind of thought I'd be the one to set an example. I never thought I'd be the one who was aching to trample (oh well.)
I've got a good idea where it takes us. I've got all the maps. I know all the transfers. You can take one to a cardboard box, the other to a heart attack (I don't need it.) I lost what I wanted to feel. I'm tired of the attitude: You step or you're stepped on. I just wanna float my way, far away, throw my headphones on and stare at your ankles. I don't need to know you.
Take your number back to the company. Take your number back to middle management. Take your number, give it to your publicist. I don't need it.