Standing on the curb wasting my life
Waiting for a bus
36 was late, the 13 was full I think
I've had enough
Standing in the grime that seat was mine
I said what the fuck
Pray to the gods they show me pity
And beam me up
But now I'm stuck
So I read my book and wish for better, better luck
Who are these people
What are these customs
What is this language
I don't understand
I feel the battle rage
I feel the steel in(on) my hands
I feel the wind in my face
I am not of this
Thank you god
For making me an Alien
Thank you god
For making me all right
Finally got myself a seat
By the homeless guy
Who's been smoking crack
He said his name was Phil
And this was the bus he's going to hijack
I had to ask, "Would it be too much
To drive me home?"
He said, "Where to?"
I didn't know
Because I've never, never known
Who are these people
I don't understand