The Map Lyrics

They're doing well to hide beneath the fashion tide

As trends foam up and die, exploding in the sky

Becoming air in clouded sky

Some day a rain will come, a rolling meniscus drum

As they suckle ocean crumbs, they will listen til they're numb

While they're fighting off their lungs

A few will pierce the gray, breathe air and crawl away

All the things they'll grope to say will soon be bought away

For a camera lens's pay

How they're the sand that sifting gives

The inherent chance to live

While someone sells what's in the sieve

And the irony in that

Is someone evolved to peddle crap

And gave trend fishermen a map

Down on the ocean floor, they slink away from shore

They can see their numbers thing, as a thousand boats close in

It's a bloodied lion's den

Now all is cut and dry for Generation Y

Think how jaded they will be, and so deep beneath the sea

I hope they drown to harbor Z

Seems that everything is tapped dry