I feel the distance at the nearness of the crowd
Can it be hated with vehemence, and hated aloud?
The trams spill with anxiety, panic fuels the wheels
This lunge for survival, as if hippos were on our heels
The Schrodinger’s cat in us is both alive and dead
What is given to us is both our poison and our bread
The kindergarten of souls is taken in a global conquest
And yet there is a conundrum of east pitted against west
A lease of life from invisible duress is the mishap of the soul
When we are told what to do, it keeps us safe and whole
Modern Bibles have strictures that shut out the opinions
If you want to be correct by yardsticks, forget your own puns
It is as transparent as lead, as visionary as a blinkered herd
And the pain of incarceration goes unvoiced and unheard
Such is the loneliness among the multitudes of the lambs
And you can tell that their corral is a simile for traffic jams
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