I pull the third shift down at the lumber yard Sweating for a dollar that is getting too hard I look across the fence at the house next door Thinking he is the reason that I am staying poor The television tells me who I need to hate While the bank comes around to collect on the estate I scrub the diner floors until my fingers bleed Trying to satisfy a bottomless corporate greed I look across the alley at the flickering light Thinking she is the reason that I have to fight The radio is screaming about a phantom spy While the grocery bill is climbing up to the sky Strangers on the very same block Waiting on the very same clock We are bleeding from the same old wound Dancing to a different tune Blinded by the spectacle and losing the thread Fighting for the crumbs while they are stealing the bread I lock my deadbolt tight when the sun goes down I keep my curtains pulled in a broken town I vote for the anchor to hold us in place I vote for the motor to win the rat race But the boat is still sinking out in the bay And neither of us knows what the other would say Strangers on the very same block Waiting on the very same clock We are bleeding from the same old wound Dancing to a different tune Blinded by the spectacle and losing the thread Fighting for the crumbs while they are stealing the bread Open up your eyes! Look across the street. We are marching to the drum! But we cannot find the beat. Strangers on the very same block Waiting on the very same clock We are bleeding from the same old wound Dancing to a different tune Blinded by the spectacle and losing the thread Fighting for the crumbs while they are stealing the bread Just a stranger. On the same block. © 2026 The Shady River Bard. All rights reserved.
