And when I look out the window To find they're selling papers about the newest suicides They're talking talk about the latest Hollywood strides The paparazzo's snapping photographs of a man bleeding in the alley It'll make a juicy story, there was nobody there to stop his demise Except the local propaganda fuellers But that's not their job, right?

From my window I can see the world going by I can see the everyday struggles of every individual

I can see Brian Stevens, who passes nearly every day To earn himself a penny at the local bakery In which people look him up and down and talk nasty about him once outside in the daylight "A poor boy who never finished school" They don't bother to ask what he's doing there He's putting himself through medical school But maybe If he told them It would off-set their own little ways

When I look out my window to the dirty, unsettling grounds of downtown I'm glad I live up here Away from it all Away from the real world Because I simply watch I could I don't want to join the mass grind of the real world It's too hellish for me

In my city there's a building And on the 17th floor That's where I live That's where I like it best