Work

We steal moments of light,
in open spaces.
You’re packed tight,
in darkest places.

Underground,
off to the races.
Making no sound,
no looks, disgrace is,
painted on your pallid faces.

Victims of the way
this World is.
Organized, just grey
you hate this,
still you pay to play.
So tasteless.

Wishing you could fly,
escape this,
but never do you try.
We’re weightless,
waiting for the day,
you join us.