Try to take your own advice
Trust me, do it, don't ask why
Begin beacon, become an antennae
Listen, I've been through it all
Looking like a Cynthia doll
I've got the numbers to prove
Numbers are nothing at all

Falling slowly
I recall
Elevator music
Playing in my soul

Layered paint on subway rails
Chipped away by fingernails
Idle antsy hands are sure to wear ya down
A geological dig
Revealing everything
The inner theater kid
Wish he was stealing the scene