- Thirty thousand people walk through here just to be
- To be, that's all they have, is to be
- Faceless, nameless, directionless they walk and pass me by
- I doubt anyone would see these tears in my eyes
- "Don't pick at that", one says. It must be talking to me
- Thirty thousand places I'd rather be
- I need some new faces and what would be great are sights to see
- But all I have are these foam-green walls that laugh at my entropy
- Weak and getting weaker, that's me
- Thirty thousand ants covering my skin
- I turn to look at them but they crawl away
- I move my hand to brush them off, but they hold my hand down and bite until I stop
- I don't know if there are ants, it might just be me
- Thirty thousand hospital beds
- All of them lonely, except for mine
- It has me
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