Faces buried in the wires
Pistons grind till souls are tired
To and fro with minds dimmed low
Push the gears with nowhere to go

Down they march with sore-tipped shoes
Eyes peer down, they don't know who
Hands rotate on un-set clocks
Wait to be woke by fine-tuned shocks

As time salts soil on land of dreams
A precise, unflinching life unfolds
The conqueror smirks with eyes that gleam
As doldrums pulsate in spirits cold

A face down turned just cannot see
The wonder of Earth that ceased to be
Emotion, a curse in Babylons of new
The Techno City Blues