Once Again, I Long To See It Coming

The wheels on the bus go round and round.
(round and round, round and round)
finally we’re at some sort of destination.

Led out of the metal cage,
fifty feet in the usual direction...
Sometimes, I wish they’d just tell us:
"Careful now, children...
You’re standing on the edge of oblivion.”

But all I hear is a distant clamor,
reverberating through the cavernous halls.
and see early morning frowns reflecting
Thousands of transitions...

All of them, enclosed and compressed
(Exposed and surpressed)
And then a strange sound causes them to scatter.
At least it gives us structure.

We dissipate into seperate cocoons
where irrelevant instructors try their best
as the anxious lives look on,
this time waiting for the sound
(that electric scream)

They thought they'd see it coming.