Testo di Fruit Tea

Three billion arms swing as microscopic metronomes They march in unison to pay off their town homes Three billion cubicles work for a face they'll never meet Their riding tricycles while counting three billion sheep Their brains in soft skulls observe three billion more Wondering whose royalty and whose meant to hold a door Who is meant to hold? Whose meant to hold? I'm told I'm told we're meant to hold until we're old Just be patient please Bottom of the chain Some find their Jesus in a fruity cup of tea Always reheating mine waiting patiently for me You'll confess to them all of your push pin philosophies Make out your checks to a candy necklace rosary Me I'm of the future, but belong far in the past Through time we've traveled far still systems of class Their brans in soft skulls judge three billion more They say a prayer for me while I hold the door