All The Children

Walk the yellow corridors
listen through the walls
to the women screaming
his eyes gleam with alcohol
and all the children dream
of a better place to be

Are you on your cigarette break
watching afternoon fade
wishing you were anywhere but here
walking back inside
you can't adjust your eyes
as the sunlight and the wind disappear

Chaos all around you and yet
you find yourself immune
your manager's a monster
but you hum this tune
beneath your breath
and pour the drinks
there's nothing left
to do but never think again
everything is perfect

Outside the barren oak trees
look like skeleton fingers beckoning
but maybe you just see
the metaphor in everything
close the blinds and stay inside
you find a switch and hit the light
you would drift off to sleep
but you're already there

All the children dream
of a better place to be