Fall Short

It's a sterile place The cleaners come once a week Frosted glass hides their face And they only pick people who are meek The colors are black and white And the highlighters are right and wrong They work from day to night And hum their little songs They wear their trendy blazers And mark their full calendar Go out to dinner No, they don't have room for a passenger I sweep every corner and change the bins All of their shoes are so clean I wonder if I'm who tracks the dirt in