Bus stop, red line, red line.
	Gum and oil on the red line.
Obnoxious hip-hop muther,
	pumping it up on the red line.

Silent souls waiting at the red line
while the muther, he pumps it up.

Strained faces, morning coffee
	making distance around themselves
	making their own red line.
		But the muther keeps it pumping.

Tender ears, raw to the new day's noise,
	from dreams cruelly torn
	from the sweet silence surfaced
		bleeding near the red line.

But the muther, he feels fine.

Pump it up, pump it up
	on the red line.
Yo, pump it up
	near the red line.