TearLine Group

Crowds of billions shuffle,

Tilt their heads up to the stars.

The silverscreen, a spokesman,

Looms with eyes that pierce through them.

Praise government's creation, spitting words of affirmation,

In the eyes of children dreaming of afar.

A city of solution.

Businessmen kiss the streets,

Suited up and ego stretched,

they hope to build a new sky-

A mirror in which the city lights reflect.

Days are painted gold,

By papers new and old.

A future built and promise to accept

People sit and gather,

To talk about the new god-

How they felt his holy presence kill the old,

The youth, flowers of his creation.

With eyes like moons, they wish to be consoled.