And crowded in solitude, I’m left out of place.
The blood flow of man so determined in speed,
No wonder my wounds have no oil to bleed.
Stuck here in Stand-by, I’m forced to observe,
Passengers lifted by dreams that they serve.
But whats wrong with me? I sit idly by,
while their trains go to station and planes start to fly.
For they serve a purpose and I serve to watch,
as my lifeline so sadly progresses a notch.
In time, not in splendor, a life not yet lived,
cuz I’m stuck here in standby with no fare to give.