Underneath our ceilings,
We’re too busy to feel feelings

Crafting fires, sculpting waters
Assembling ways, breeding colors

Underneath our bloodlines
We’re the soldiers assigned to the war—
Juggling weapons, battling grief
Saving lives of our fellowmen

Underneath the hands of a clock
We’re the fastest in the race
But we’re the last to finish
Yet, we believe we're champions
With bursts of color, like party confetti
For we feel it