My current favorite that I've written

Oscillating:

In the Booth, sweating away,
As kids raise balloons to the sky,
They choke the birds;
The first of the children to go.
I talk into the phone
As they rise higher,
And higher, and higher, and higher,
I hang up the phone
I've gotta get away.

On our knees, on the escalator,
We got our hands tied together.
We got our eyes closed.
The hymn of the motor sings.
I hear a ring from my pocket,
And my hands don't budge an inch.
The motor drags us up to the top,
And we'll be pulled into the machine and diced away.
Spliced, our limbs will then be pulled the bottom.
Falling fast, they'll swiftly start to be pulled higher.
And higher, and higher, and higher,
You hang up the phone.
I've gotta get away.

If a pharaoh whose soon to die
Would rather be buried in the streets,
Would the pyramid still be built to the sky?
Well, if it were me, I'd simply lay there
Then on the top floor, I'd crush the walls.
Crushing the walls to see the sky,
Crushing the walls to see the birds.
But soon enough they won't be flying.
And weary, I'll walk out the tomb.
I'll find those birds and rip there limbs,
The one's who don't deserve to be buried,
And throw them higher, and higher, and higher.
But for now, I'll get back to you,
I'll call you back.
I've gotta get away.