Letras
The inkpad is dry, the coffee is black
Another grey folder added to the stack
You sit in the chair, you're pleading your case
I'm just watching the neon reflect on your face
Through the frosted glass, the city looks cold
I don't make the weather, I do what I'm told
Just a drop of red ink, just a flick of the wrist
Another short story swallowed up by the mist
I'm not the villain, I'm just the machine
Keeping the ledgers so perfectly clean
(Denied...)
Just a rubber soul, fading to grey
I clock out at five, I step in the rain
I don't carry the files, I don't carry the pain
It's nothing to me, it's just paper and wood
But the silence is louder than it ever should
Through the frosted glass, the city looks cold
I don't make the weather, I do what I'm told
Just a drop of red ink, just a flick of the wrist
Another short story swallowed up by the mist
I'm not the villain, I'm just the machine
Keeping the ledgers so perfectly clean
(Denied...)
Just a rubber soul, fading to grey
I wash my hands
But the red doesn't fade
Just a ghost in the office
Living in the shade
Just doing my job
(Denied...)
Nothing personal
(Denied...)
Next in line, please
(Denied...)
(Denied...)