The Pale People
Lengsel
The wax sensation Cultivated alienation Like swarming bees Are the pale people Robed in plastic fiber wings Lowered sails, roaring wind Ambition melting down Sticky, wet alien-eyes The loss of a generation Deprived and detached From divinity An era of insolence The crowded head And broken heart The fallen flesh And wants at hand Oh but the number! Thousands upon thousands Corpus torn asunder