Circle Of Dead Children

We Wear The Gimp Mask

Circle Of Dead Children


At the peak of evolution's tower we perch 
and glare downward toward the understrappers below 
Unable to see all the way to the bottom 
Unable to care even if we could 
Poverty and disease flourish around the foundation of our creation 
And how great are we? 
Great enough to lift our noses to the skies 
as existence crumbles around us from the ground up 
How great are we?