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.