The boy stares through the glass He's saying dollar dollar Three lines of traffic past We're trapped inside our car His voice says dollar dollar I turn to you to ask For something we could offer Three lines of traffic past We pull away so fast All my words get swallowed In the rear view glass A face pock-marked and hollow He's saying dollar dollar I can't look through or past A face saying dollar dollar A face pock-marked and hollow Staring from the glass