In the morning and in the evening,
Drive-time bulletins oceans away.
Between the mourning and seeking,
Gridlock still lives in yesterday.
It's all around me.
It's all around.
It's all around me.
And It surrounds.

I'm conscious of the difference in continental content,
But I'm so sensitive to casualties that will always be.
Everywhere where necropolis' thrive and crushed steel and plastic are taking lives.
Always so far away from me.
Always so far away from me.


Where we find fatal jackknives and pileups on express ways making mechanisms of bone marrow.
This is where,
The public expresses sorrow for the victims who died tomorrow.