Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Untitled Two

You see us just for aesthetics
Only valued from our skins
We may walk unto the clouds
Our feet buried in mud
Steaks and caviars maybe good
Some uproots vines to make food
Sipping wine is bitter but soothes
Silver and china adorns your table
Piles of scraps that we call home
According to you, it is a trash
From those things, we make cash
When we walk unto the streets
You smirk and call us “a mess”
In this luxury-deprived life we live
We are very much happy and contented.

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