Allochtoon Protocol

[Verse 1]
The ticket slip is warm from my thumb, number 92.
Thursday morning, the nine-fifteen slot, sky is faded blue.
The stale air tastes of printer toner and wet wool.
Just another component, waiting for the pull.

[Build 1]
I trace the seams in the linoleum with my boot.
(Just another component)
A quiet tensile strength in this waiting room's pursuit.
Each of us a blueprint folded in a nervous hand.
(Folded in a hand)
Trying to prove the structure's sound on shifting sand.

[Verse 2]
The red digit on the counter clicks to 89.
I see my mother's face in a girl further down the line.
"Your passport," she says, her nail taps the plexiglass screen.
(Taps the screen)
I'm running a diagnostic on a feeling I can't keep clean.

[Bridge]
And for a second, I wanna say her name out loud.
(Say her name)
Just to feel the resonance cut through the quiet crowd.
It's the oldest kind of tension before the release.
(Tension, release)
But I just nod, and slide the papers, and hold my peace.

[Drop Section]
(Instrumental)

[Outro]
The automatic door hisses shut behind my back.
The rain on Verrijn Stuartlaan washing out the track.