They say freedom comes with a price
A two dollar subway fare
And the erosion of rubber underfoot

See the sun beat down
As you pound concrete
Hear the sirens, the blurred conversations

A bum is sleeping on the stairs
And you watch
But he is too drunk to see you

A man tries to sell you a sweater you don’t need
As you read the concert posters
Hoping you can make it to the show

You’re nervous, you bite your lip
So much, surrounding you,
everywhere

Running through the crowd
The people stare
Doesn’t matter

As your double grande nonsense
Spills out in foaming gushes
From the sticky paper cup