The people of Straight Land all live in a row
Tiny little boxes and nowhere to go
You've got to get a job to maintain the position
A bright, happy dream as prescribed by your physician
The people of Straight Land have really got it made
A warm friendly sleep from the cradle to the grave
A bright plastic lie of cash and credit
A huge, gray fantasy you'll really want to edit
The people of Straight Land are really not alive
We walk and speak but only just survive
We move around but under direction
We cannot see the larger perception
There people of Straight Land make a silent scream
Desperate to escape this death day-dream
Rotting from the inside it's really not polite
You've got to shield your eyes from such an everyday sight
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