To serve the server

A mindless morgue of men who walk
through concrete tombs with golden locks

And haste to serve the server's plight - To keep the locks out of sight

We've come to build a vast empire small as stones of valued mire

We've come to serve who don't exist, who charm our thoughts with iron fist and teach us self destructiveness

We've come to dream prescription sleep while babies starve and mothers weep

We close our eyes and hide our cheeks while disillusioned sleep in streets

Morning wakes, but darkness falls on those who build with mirrored walls

And heaven sets on few whose sighs are meant to silence living cries.