Electric President

Hum

Footsteps echo through hallways.
Beneath the neon lighting, everyone looks sick.
We sit on a rusty staircase.
You write your name with lipstick on the rail near the wall.
What do you think about me now, that I've fallen down?
Verse 2:
Watching the crowds on the sidewalks.
A steady hum of nothing is all that fills the air.
And we sit on a nearby rooftop.
It overflows with pigeons, and we idly scare them off.
But what do you think about me now, that I've fallen down?