These four walls
Familiar yet new
Close in
Expand out

Industry calls
Preys upon dreams
Sets its goals
Upon those who crave
The glory days
Built up from birth

They permeate all forms
Of things that touch
The human heart
The human mind
The human soul

They serve themselves
Before all
They serve themselves

There they stand
Like new again
In the mind
Think tank back

Spots on the map
Where we've been
What we've seen
Who we are
Refects upon today
Looks the other way

Ghosts of the past
They haunt the ground
And alter the course
Of travelling sound

Those that rise above
Seem somehow to know
That they are the ones
Needed in the plows
That grow the fields
Of wicked wheat

And then there are
Those that are unknown
Here as nothing
There as something

Also an expance of futures
Calling and drawing
In all directions
And for all reasons
They can't get enough
And you push some aside
Only to have them
More overtly contrive
A decent explanation
For what they provide

Soon they say
We will be
And it is believed
But the truth is alive
In what we perceive
The outcome of which
Is nothing without
The garden
We grow

Go