Drivers in the taxicabs,
People live their roles.
Thirty-five cents.
Throw it in the toll.
They don`t know they`re paying what is stealing their food.
They`re forced into the melting pot where they`re simmered and brewed.
He loves being sick but he looks for a cure.
[Chorus:]
You can call this sane.
You can call this eccentric.
He marks his books with steak knives.
All we are is lunch for the sky.
Why can`t we be jazz musicians?
A little melody will soon be missing.
All we are is lunch for the sky.
Let`s all play the lottery so we can buy all our dreams.
I`m a self-help video with the worst themes.
Everything I wanted I was all in a dream.
I still wasn`t much or was that just how I seem?
He loves being sick but he looks for a cure.
[Chorus]
I stood back to the countryside.
I asked if you`d like to take a ride.
My moods come in two stages.
God-awful and contagious.
I can`t tell you what I want to say.
The city digested yesterday.
Death is not the end it is the cure.
[Chorus]
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