Is that what we are?

I see us all marked by street lights and cars and apartment buildings, concrete mass.
Is that what we are?
Burning the gas and burning these dry woods, smoke and fumes.
Where can the open lung not suffer?
Halls and corridors cells and cellars, cabins and rooms.Upon the road is the movement of forward as in the glass as in the metal.
I see us all marked by numbers and digits in abstract devices. See us all positioned to enlarge the city.
Is that what we are?
Did we come to be egyptian slaves? Did we come not to question but to obey like slaughter house beef?
Have we a plan so defined in this notion of existance that to stray from it, would be against the very direction of the blood in your arm.
Waiting for tomorrow to free the small when they would lift us so much higher, yet we starve them.
Is that what we are? Do we turn them away?
In lines to the city limits, in queues to the culdesacs, we wait like hungry seagulls...
There´ll be not a scrap left on the stained mantle for any. When the few make you think they´ve something they haven´t got!