Caged into the iron case
With few buttons fooling you to think its only you who choose your course
With an alarm bell fooling you to think somebody is out there always waiting to help you
With a few trying to understand what really move things up and down
With a many doesnt giving a damn to think about it
Arent we just men in the lift?

With a few averting any gazes
With a few pounding with friendly smiles
With a few attempting in vain to look busy
With all wanting to get out of the place as smoothly as possible
But at times wondering about the gestures both reciprocated and ignored
Arent we just men in the lift?

Sharing most of the space with people we dint choose
Many a times not having an idea when they walked in and never knowing when they will walk out
And worse still, a few taking away a part of you when they walk out...
Arent we just men in the lift?

At times one side with a glass offering a view...
For many it is a view showing how far you are from your destination
For a few it is a view showing how far you have distanced yourself from things you love in pursuit of that destination
But with a change of course not being easy continuing the journey with a longing look at the things you hold dear
Arent we just men in lift?

Looking with awe at things speeding in front of your eyes
Frustrated with the notion of having a control but not a true control
Glad at company but frightened of the transitivity
Greatful for the comfort but doubtful at the reliability
Waiting despeartely to come out only to desperately get back into it
Arent we just men in the lift?