No Souls And Clear Glasses

A leant-forward man told me once that
There's a light at the end of this tunnel
A wavy blue daze made of adverts and tile
And a breeze there that smells of the ocean

There's an arrow, he said, and a set of steel stairs
Just lean forward with me and I'll show you

But leant-forward men have no souls and
Clear glasses and see only what's up and around them
And the journey I keep is the one in my sleep
So I leant back and slipped off behind him