Cloud of Flies

Do you sit when you’re off this cubicle
Thinking about how life is beautiful?
Your face is made of concrete
And you sold your smile to a pawn shop down the street

Hang up your telephone
Someone that you know is on a hospital bed

Now when you open your backdoor
The air has never felt so cold before
Did you choose the moments you lived inside
When you could have been out under that blue sky

They’ll be wishing that I were dry
But you know the clouds in the sky
Part of these clouds of flies

Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky
Use the blue sky