Stock them high was the order of the day
In queues one by one, they flock shops
A social warehouse of common sales
Slashed home events, buy one get one

On a balcony I sip Chai Latte swiftly
Masses line up on spotlight street path
Each drawn in enterprises of expenditure
A dime for a good, a rhyme to amass more

Coloured triangle on the forehead illuminates
A third eye, a seer pry, mood eased to try
Our eyes meet and my tiled notebook melt
Sing my heart don't protest,soul free to sate

We lost in narrowed jungles strolling multiples
Outer casts giggling, deep withering multiplex
Pasted blocks of concrete as loneliness replies
A vice subtle, an automated paradigm in demise