Well he sits at his desk 'cause he's trying his best   To envision a future that just won’t exist   A utopia   At his fingertips      And in his spare time he frowns at the sight   Of an imperfect office, on an imperfect night   From a cafe across   A Street he provides      And he swears on his soul that he’s under control   And his eyes they just move because he claims he’s alone   In a room filled to the brim   With people he knows      He closes the door 'cause he knows that before   Everything was what was and it was beautiful      And it broke him half when he found out the math was wrong      So he’ll sip at his drink until he falls beneath the plane that we know   And most have come to love   But he knows that it’s not good enough   Yeah he knows that it’s not good enough      And when there’s no sound he’ll scream out at hell   And hope that they hear him   And acknowledge his wishes   And force him out of this      But nothing makes a sound   When no one is around   And I think he knows that now