I've got a life to live, imprisoned as it is.
If you think this life is a joy ride, well you'd better think again, cuz it ain't no easy glide.
I live in a box, with screaming glass walls.
Outside the people peer in, their hands pressing against the panes.
I try to be one of them, I try to fit in, but the walls, they won't go away, they just won't.
Sometimes the glass is so clean it doesn't seem to exist, but look again, i say look again.
I walk up believing in their absence, i walk up, nearer and nearer, and right when I reach the crowds, right when I think I'm there, I hit the glass, the unbreakable glass, with a big loud bang.
The people. They peer in. Their eyes glare, one minute with sympathy, the next with pity, the next with anger and hatred. Not even they know why they feel what they feel, but they can't repress it.
They don't have control, they don't have control.
They glare. I try to strike back. I try to ignore them. I shrink back into the box. I shrink far, far back.
But it's so lonely inside. I hate their pity, I hate their sympathy, I hate their animosity.
But I go back, I give them everything they ask of me in hopes of seeing one small instance of a real smile, a real hand outstretched, a real hello, a real laugh, honesty.
Like man's best friend, I go back, I go back to the owner who beats me with a newspaper, the rolled up New York Times, and I whine, but I go back with my tail wagging, and I go back.
But to what avail? I'm in this glass box, stuck in this prison, stuck in this labyrinth, and I toil, but to what avail? To what avail? I'm that little black dot frantically twisting in that box you see on your table, imprisoned by you, the world is cruel.
Cuz I live in a box, with screaming glass walls, yes, screaming glass walls, they scream and scream and scream and scream...