Socratic

Drivers in the taxicabs, People live their roles.
Thirty-five cents.
Throw it in the toll.
They don't know they're paying what's stealing their food.
They're forced into the melting pot where they're simmered and brewed.
'Cause he loves being sick but he looks for a cure. (He loves being sick.)
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?
'Cause he loves being sick but he looks for a cure. (He loves being sick.)
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.
I stood back to the countryside.
Asked if you'd like to take a ride.
My moods come in two stages.
Of God-awful and contagious.
I can't tell you what i want to say.
The city digested yesterday.
But death is not the end it is the cure.
You can call this sane.
You can call this eccentric.
He marks his books, no, 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.
All we are is lunch for the sky.