Where's my job or occupation?
On this planet of employed men working line by line
Excusing none, as long as they are criminals in dream theatres
Or nepotist rebels, you call radical artists to build in ceramic pots
Tell me what's in the name of money, a jade sword
Is it your greed, that you learn your hunger from, a bleeding cut
Or the foolish is it if I ask you such a catatonic question, reading out
Unfeeling is it if I ask for a catharsis without cheapening feelings
Chester chooses his chestnuts well with magazines
Her name's on your tongue, but, her flights a long way off
True isn't it, that sky clears for checkers and crimson skies
Gosh, I wonder where you're looking for flickering lights
On the sun or the runaway journey, that ends on the runway
You could be running, tell it isn't your hesitation
It's just a chemical romance and repentance, for having inhibited yourself
Why stop yourself, if you have all the papers necessary?
People never stop when the traversing is just the thing they need
Travel is life, so are timeless things
I wonder how long we'll be here, really