Sitting in solitude, lonely, I know
Glancing and gazing out of this window
I wish that the hands of this clock would move slow
But everyone seems to have somewhere to go
Why must every journey turn into a race
Why do we seem always have something to chase
Spending life sprinting and quickening the pace
When we could instead make the most of our place
Donning these things that we don’t even need
So we can catch up, get ourselves up to speed
Is it all vanity, is it all greed
Or is it the way we’ve been taught to succeed
Think of your values, what things do you want
Are they sincere or just things you can flaunt
Words are all words, no matter the font
Their meanings don’t change be you poor, debutante
How the World Should Work 