A thousand lips kiss steaming cups of coffee;
A thousand feet strike the ground.
One, two, one, two; the city’s heartbeat,
A perfect percussion of leather on concrete;
We are its lifeblood, a pulse that pounds
Streaming through grey veins,
As man and machine merge endlessly.
A symphony of sound greets our ears;
A cacophony of colours graces our eyes.
Assaulting our senses and building to a crescendo we do not hear,
The unnoticed score serenades the legend of below,
As the morning sun pushes itself to its place in the sky,
Stretching and smiling; taunting with false promises,
Through a milky haze of chilly mist and frozen clouds
That soften and surround the edges of the past
And blur the boundaries between
Here, there, then and now.
On mass we advance upon our very separate targets;
On mass we advance in our very separate lives.
We storm cold steel grey gates to an underground world.
Armed with paper swords and defended by plastic shields,
We battle on. Toward our unique destinies,
Riding on screaming steel dragons and forget:
Time, that unfaithful. fleeting friend.
Followed by our past, we trudge on.
Pursued by regrets, we flounder hopelessly;
Wandering blindly and without aim
Into the dark, baleful unknown.
Accompanied by the tune of our memories, lonely
Thought becomes our companion as we wait.
Then onward we go unto the breach;
Onwards, ever ascending into the cold light of day
And air so thick it could be chewed.
In that mass of nameless faces, strangers all,
Rising up from the screeching pit, escaping, we pour.
Stagnant, stale air behind us yet we find only more
As again we attack with expensive paper swords
Bought with our souls, and charge on to earn our pay
That we use to buy more
In that abyss of self-made solitude.