Almost completely out of it,
Down there they are like slaves
Trash boys wallow in the low light,
Tepid people staring at their faces
Now we are standing idle in the shadow of an overpass.
I remember driving through the end of it,
When all the roads were still paved over,
Sneering within the jail was a twilight,
That watched the sun break apart its cage,
Try not to think, wait for the ominous moan to pass.
Almost completely numb to it,
the dark hoards of spinning waste latching on
Like a leech to indecent life,
Sinister people just waiting on their graves
They pray to the altar of an overpass.
They are affluence at the altar of an overpass.