The City of Factories

The city of factories greets the dawn with gentle Rays caressing cold concrete. The sun will wash away the tales long gone. The stench of night's unholy retreat. Tired folk leaving worries behind, Hurry to work to find some rest. They are the makers, so they redefine the very Essence, life's first test. Against a backdrop of a global fate, the value Of menace begins to fade. There's little time left just to ponder. Why the rushing? Is it a chosen path or A shade? Rats in a net, they scoop up The sludge. Blind to the line twixt good and Ill. Unaware of what they truly budge. Their final refuge, a soul's last hill. One day deciding you've chosen freedom. You feel the ache, there's no real choice. Guardians of a meek rat kingdom. In the dark, they forge a new voice. Child of Babylon, fearless, bold. Pitch the haze of fumes untold. Ended fast with the eaves unrolled. A path unstarted, now grown old. Behind the haze of illusions fade. Bloody visages can be seen. A sacred postulate, life constrained. All bounds of decency washed clean. Obediently it follows its shepherd's call. A lowing herd to hope lie dead. Unknowing guard behind the shadow of bills. Riders of fortune's false appeal. Will leave their heirs when time's steel. Only sand dunes, cold and real. Gloomy faces of chance-bound passersby. Who see no end, just a long goodbye. Merely victims, you and I. A priest who served the golden lie. The city Of factories greets the dawn with gentle rays Caressing cold concrete. The sun will wash away the tales long gone. The stench of night's unholy retreat. Holy tree. The city of factories greets the dawn. The gentle rays caressing cold concrete. The sun now washed away the sampled dark. The stench of nights unholy. Red tree.