The neighbors paint their fences white They lock the doors up every night A carbon copy of the street Where apathy and boredom meet I saw the mailman drop the bill A cinematic bitter pill The silence ringing in my ear The same routine as yesteryear With 50 shades of beige around They never make a single sound The algorithm knows your face Welcome to this empty place (Yeah) I tried to fix the broken sink It gave me way too time to think About the plastic on the lawn And where the glory days have gone The skater kids have moved away Replaced by HOAs today It’s ironic how we strive To feel slightly less alive With 50 shades of beige around They never make a single sound The algorithm knows your face Welcome to this empty place It’s quite bitter... It’s quite bitter...
