When I first passed the gates into the metallic garden stamping out seeds for the junkyard with its infinite cardiac output
I gazed upon the eyes of the creatures that inhabited this oily soil of steel and chemicals all I saw was a cry for help to escape to be away just one day they cry, just one day
I got caught in the claws and it scratched and scratched the wounds heal but the scars stay
I have become a trapped animal with eyes of dismay
There's little chance of escape I can dream I can pray one day, I echo one day
Now I am just taxidermy for this godforsaken industry and they call this quality.