They’re all the same. They’re all the same. Sterile cubes to the horizon; snowy stains Crew cut lawns of Neon ball-field grass Blacktop floors, silver chariots past Barbed wire cages of pristine wood sides Maples spaced mechanically Mother Nature cyanide Hospital sheeting, board room meeting Hollow caskets of dead visions Creative color fleeting.
They’re all the same. They’re all the same. Optic nerve trickery; I must be insane So far the truthful eyes can see Flawless cookie cutter plastic sheen Synthetic golden palace gleam Manicured daisies spaced between Another and another; cloned dollhouse genes Another and another; recurring cul-de-sac dreams Criss-crossed patterns; golf course greens Castles of pastel kings and queens.