The drone masses.

The sharp south, young people´s razor stares. An era awakens.
Cheap intoxication, alleyway bums feed, expensive clubs where colourful hollows expose their needs.
Through streets with compulsory shopping experiences, monitored by elevated security eyes.
Sleeping through existance, minor nightmares about lacking credit... Recognise.
The promise of a serpent, it´s power cooking in the drone masses.
Awaiting it´s venemous bite.
It becomes mobile and visible.
The sharp south as a dinner platter, young people´s fight to express against photocopy minds.
Doctrines are wolves in sheeps clothing. Serpents that have not yet shed their radiant skin, who stray beyond our vision and then strike on the diamond hour.
A blunt north is set like a trap, full of nests of poisonous creatures.
The eastern machine feeds a western apetite.
The drone masses step in rhythm, with no strings attached.