On a canvas of brake lights, street signs and garbage cans
He's a face without a name, with a pair of outstretched hands
And me I'm just an asshole living in a priviledged life
Wondering why these modern conveniences don't make me alive

Ever get the feeling that there's nothing you can do?
Ever start to wonder if you're just acting out a role written for you?
Living in with these lonely alibis and weekly wages
Our homes, our jobs, our lives, our cages

There's a girl staring out of her window into a rainy night
Thinking of the prices that she pays, the self-loathing and sacrifice
And meanwhile I pace this lonely office space for another 8 hour night
Asking myself how to work to stay alive could be called a life

Ever get the feeling that this world's written you off?
Ever get the feeling you're imprisoned by expectations and jobs?
Dreary morning, city bus, sea of dejected faces
Our homes, our jobs, our lives, our cages