Tightly stretched highways cut my fingers like glass,
My blood seeps down, stains the roadmap.
But the tunnels from which my blood seeps
Are roads just the same as ones of concrete.
Sun beams, spears of light, cut through the evening sky,
Their edges, sharp as Hell, they slash through my eyesight.
And when they finally set my headlights become their twins,
The only difference is I can actually hide from them.
And in the cage of my ribs where my heart should beat
Lies a city built of cinder blocks and wooden beams.
It's a mirror image of every city on Earth,
All the same, connected by roads of grey rock and dirt.
