All the little turning wheels
Following the dotted lines
in a rush to get to cubicles
To type on tiny keys
Is it really logical
To see a meaning in it all
Isn't it worth so much more to be leaves
Upon trees
It made me bulletproof
Seeing you so aloof
And I'm trying not to take it so **** personally
And every-time I think it's clear
And we've risen past this atmosphere
You turn around & flip the script on me
You're far from near
Choose your words carefully before you begin
Standing watching the dripping tap over an empty sink
We are a beautiful crime scene.
About how humanity just barely lives from day to day and all the futility mixed in with tiny sparks of life here and there.