• People pour from glass buildings along wet April sidewalk
    Try to hide themselves behind the small talk

    Like human smokestacks crowded and stained
    Stained with their neighbors words of waste
    Smoke from hearts burning in flames they never faced

    Their black umbrellas form the sad cloud
    Covering bright souls with the dingy shroud

    Still the light leaks out from in
    Like from a million tiny holes
    From a million little pins

    Lost sailors wearing star studded coats
    Wearing the night sky
    Looking to each other for direction
    A human Polaris to navigate by

    Searching for another place
    Where we can stop this self deception
    This insincere shroud we call protection

    Where we can finally be our own
    In this house of flesh, blood, and bone