The Boy Stares Through The Glass
He's Saying Dollar Dollar
Three Lines Of Traffic Past
We're Trapped Inside Our Car

His Voice Says Dollar Dollar
I Turn To You To Ask
For Something We Could Offer
Three Lines Of Traffic Past
We Pull Away So Fast

All My Words Get Swallowed
In The Rear View Glass
A Face Pock-marked And Hollow
He's Saying Dollar Dollar

I Can't Look Through Or Past
A Face Saying Dollar Dollar
A Face Pock-marked And Hollow
Staring From The Glass