We Live outside of the machine.
the City's air unfit to breathe.
The bitter taste is salty sweet-like
Powdered sugar and concrete.
A silhouette of you and me
Lit the light-polluted scene.
A boulevard for every tree-
Christen cross-diagonal streets.
Pigeons wade and sift debris- with
Paper cranes and lift machines.
One thousand wings, together flap.
The sound of mother nature's clap.
Ocean birds enjoy a lap -a
Theraputic oil bath -with
Plastic bags and manowars -that
Dance around the ocean floor
Pixies arc from copper vines
Hung in modernist design.
the Smokey sky is turning black
Amoung the piles of burning trash
Our pail of sin has sprung a leak!
Corral the shit into the sea!
And fill it up until it seeps
From the cracks that line the urban streets.