You condescend me like a shrug of shoulders,
as I exist beneath a metro.
I'm not up to your standards,
or worth acknowledging.
I'm a passenger in your world,
whom you wouldn't give up your seat for and make room.
What do you think of me,
other than a basement apartment?
Do I ride the line of ground zero,
and am I smaller than an atom?
You showed you'd stoop to the lowest of lows
to sport your superiority complex to all.

Oh, you have no sympathy at all?
There must not be a weight on your shoulders.
You've kept the volume at zero.
The highs must be at their highest peak with your lows.
The thickness in the air is worth acknowledging:
you communicate so cryptically with me.
We could address it for the titantrons to see around the metro
or for the TV in one's apartment.
This professional relationship would not suffice health code standards.
I need to shrink you down to an atom.
I have to leave your head with no more room,
where you'll feel violated in front of the whole world.

In another world,
I'm sure you wouldn't shake hands with your fingers crossed for all.
I feel a presence in the room,
one that reeks of deceit worth acknowledging.
But this presence is not one that's lied to me
yet. It's brushing off, not against shoulders.
Bumper to bumper, metro to metro,
so close to knowing the standards
of trust; there's too little of it as an atom.
Awareness, I have zero.
What will be my lows,
and can I stay away from it like the roof of an apartment?
You live within the elevator shafts of a luxurious apartment,
unabiding to the world.
You tower above me
like an entertainment center of a room.
What is worth acknowledging
is the darndest thing of all:
You have free time less than an atom,
commissions booming more than Metro.
Barely do you meet your client's standards?
As you toggle with the high-hats and lows.
Fix your posture and your shoulders,
and keep your comfort at a zero.

My respect for you is zero,
as you sit in your apartment.
When you lay in your room,
gazing at an atom,
you slouch your shoulders.
You take the metro,
the destination furthest from me.
This evasion of doing what you've paid for is worth acknowledging.
Do you not have any standards,
and do you wish to set the bar at all?
What in the world
have you deep in the lows?
My patience is at the lows;
it's less than zero,
miniature like an atom.
Keep messing with me;
it's an unforgiving world.
What's owed is worth acknowledging.
We each have our own room,
live in our own bubble. Our shoulders
positioned similarly to standards.
Anything can happen in a metro
like me knocking on your apartment.
door. Demanding what's rightfully mine and all.

You'll feel foolish in your apartment,
when you no longer have business in this world
because you meet no one's standards.
Your arrogance disappearing, as you're belittled to an atom.
Nobody wants to work with you at all,
not anymore. When you're here there's no trust in the room.