Trapped in skyscraper office space
Take your break, escape in haste
I'd walk a mile for that great taste
Standing there in pears and trees
Chattering teeth and trembling knees
We French inhale and then we sneeze
We're the new street people
So far you've had just two today
Maybe you've come a long, way
Down 40 flights, what can I say?
We stand around the helpless ones
With the homeless, the winos, the bums
We teach us how to suck our thumbs
Ostracized in restaurants,
aeroplanes and public haunts
Deprived of our most cherished wants,
and we long to live there,
Where looking cool is never wrong,
We're the new street people
A thousand toxic natural shocks
Filter flavor flip top box
Thank God when it's five o 'clock
Behind closed doors every night
Matches flare and lighters light
Rooms fill up with acrid haze
We fill up our favorite ashtrays
It's just like the good old bad days
But tomorrow we'll be back outside
Stripped of dignity and pride
Standing outside smoking weed
Why? Why can't I breathe?
