Faces strange, deformed and bent,
Faces in a gallery swimming around tantalizing and teasing,
People wondering in and out of reality,
People enslaved by the cold embrace of advertising and cheap money,
Souls unborn yet walking the streets,
Souls drowning, confused without course,
A society drunk, drifting and deluded,
A society built by Babylon and bankrupt by greed,
Who types this curtain of existence to be printed?
Who reads these words of plastic passion?
Break the latex and speak to deaf eyes,
Break the cocoon of dirty mental glue and stressed restriction,
This big pontoon may have no rudder, but we can still sit back and laugh at
This madness in the rapids while the edges slowly disappear.