Mundane

Here we are, the senseless masses,
Moving to a beat that is trod out,
Of trains ticking along tracks,
The putter of engines and the patter of feet,
Like an army we amass.
Before the sun has kissed the earth,
Our steps trample the green earth to dust,
Set forth, we move like locust,
Descending on the heart of the city,
Breaking the silence with the beat of a million feet.

Yet there is no spark in our souls.
We are Marx proved wrong, we live no revolution,
Inside and out, we simply walk the pace
Of second wives and sleeping pills.
Of soon due rents and monthly bills.
Our sleepless eyes betray our only violent clashes.
We are the early rising working classes.

Mundane

jbultimate9

Joined January 2008

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