People
Behind the curtains curvy greyish lips
The greyish-whithish lifeless palish light
A series of animated tipsy clips
The ragged cloth of day, a hectic rush
Has got us digging heels in daily grinds
Small figures slowly treading in a slush
We’re trivialities with agitated minds
The sluggish tup hogs steered by rods
We’re born to die, a bunch of tipsy flies
Ears plugged with ipods, school of cods
Howareyou’s with a never-ending “nice”
The revving engines, waggons crawling by
Mish-mesh of faces, arms and legs
The growl of aduls and the children’s cry
A world of losers, mortal square pegs
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