From my cozy little vantage,
I peruse all of them,
But in a way to reflect.
For I have seen myself,
Docile, stilted, the walking sleeper.
A man of unawareness.
And so I don't judge, only observe.
To and fro, they rush they go.
Will it be their turn to know ?
Of my kind, they breathe they fart,
Movement within the fragile art.
Yet not quite dead,
They rove about here.
Seeking the high life,
So fond of ad-steer.
Purchase on an impulse whim,
A taste of stardom,
Brought from a dark place within.
Capitalist power to lead the blind,
I wonder have they F*@£ed my mind ?
In the street the walkers pass,
Stuck together, ass on ass.
Full of hope to see a joy,
Provided that they buy a toy.
Caught in the fiction, life asleep,
Oh my lord they're all so deep.
And so it goes, to be a king,
Spend every penny, on your bling.
Crippled by the mounting debt,
cannot sleep because they fret.
Wake up from your slumber,
One and all, before you fall.
Stop...! Sleep walker's, hear my call...!