We are the herds the masses that milk the bottle
that the few drink upon.
Fed in our enclosed pastures of woeful delusions
that tomorrow is a better day with eyes closed.

We see behind closed doors others mutilated
for the attraction of paper, milked till bones
are shadows of a former self. We feed on the
consumption on the constitution that like others
were free range, but since when is free still caged.

But we plod along milking for others who drown
in the lust for the cheese that we mould from our
given worth. Not everything is black and white
shaded for its worth. Do we realize were not free,
there milking us till death for all our worth.

                                                 *"And the worst is yet to come.