Your head hurts when
it's caught in the middle of
the city, a thousand twinkling
signals, burning out and starting up,
far off

Walking silently in the dim amber
feeling the sins in the shadows
what a different life from the bureaucratic offices
either way, you'll end up in a prison

Streetlamp tones melding together
matching the miscellaneous people conspiring under them

We are under careful control
but the rules can be so easily bent
and these contrasts are all-encompassing
threatening, even
an enigma, left behind when the sun rises

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