Plexiglass Partition

[Verse 1]
The scuff on my Carhartt boot matches the linoleum tile.
Coleman A. Young Municipal, been waitin' for a while.
Tuesday, 4:17 on the dot, the air is thick and stale,
smells like wet wool and scanner toner, a low-grade mechanical hell.
Fluorescent hums a one-note hymn for the faded and the lost,
I’m counting water spots on the ceiling, tallying up the cost.
Your name on this paperwork feels like a misprint, a typo in the code,
felt my throat get tight for a second, so I studied the emergency exit protocols.

[Chorus]
Plexiglass partition, talkin' through a slot.
They don't see the mission, just the box you check or not.
Plexiglass partition, a reflection lookin' thin.
They don't know the foundation of the room you're standin' in.

[Verse 2]
Her fingernails are painted bright blue, she taps one on the screen.
The only color in the whole damn room, a cold and quiet scene.
She slides the form under the gap with a practiced, tired grace,
says, "'Sign on the X, sir. Press down, we need all three,'" no expression on her face.
This whole building feels like it's settling, a structural disease,
I see stress fractures in the plaster, crawling out from the door jamb with ease.
My father's name is my name, this ink makes it a fact,
and for a half-a-second I was proud… then I just wanted to give the pen back.

[Chorus]
Plexiglass partition, talkin' through a slot.
They don't see the mission, just the box you check or not.
Plexiglass partition, a reflection lookin' thin.
They don't know the foundation of the room you're standin' in.

[Bridge]
Out the window, see the girders of the new bridge stabbin' the sky.
They're building over everything and they don't even ask why.
The door handle feels cold on my palm, the deadbolt clicks.
Got the deed folded in my pocket, just another one of the tricks.

(Music cuts to silence for 4 seconds)

[Outro]
(Beat returns, stripped to just the raw harp loop and a sparse kick drum)
It tastes like dust in the air out on Woodward tonight.
Yeah. It's alright.