Concrete is a burial ground for animals
hazy impressions are the brains, steel fortresses,
Trading, dealing, making, selling, bidding,
The edifice upon which we are all sitting,
For the Flesh’s livings, they’ll do anything.
Flesh is a mass,
living on the fortress with no foresight.
No idea. They live on the backbones,
The backbones that creep from the concrete.
Green shafts of life, reaching for light,
Building, pluming up into an endless breeze.
So that legs can keep walking
So that minds can keep earning
So that tires can keep turning
So that life can keep burning