City Of Industry

Slap!

Slap!

All the shoes clap,

Who is bold to sing an ode

On this wretched ride?

The races of dogs

Line behind the divide,

Ready to hear that sound run

No asking why.

As the tones of clanging steel,

Harmonise with their sorry eyes,

And the skies look blue up wide,

Like there is no hole to dive.

When the sweat falls in silence

And reminds us of our weakness,

Then the bell rings locks us down,

And keep us operating.

Those monotone bells

With their tinny-tin rings,

Like the conscience of our era,

The sympathy it brings.

Ever wonder of our poor ancestors

Those that lived

And slaved before us?

Now they are at peace

While we toil,

No eye contact

Ashamed of our where.

I think someone just dropped

While screaming

'a cry for affection!',

'a cry for attention!'

Alas for them,

We continue to go.

On our stone coarsen lawns

Mowing away,

On gum stained plantations

Heeding the fray.

One hundred and one sunrises

Can't take away

This moment so real,

And the buzz of the generator

Remains of the day,

Only it with no feelings

Can hum us to sleep.

What a compassionate lull,

Humming around

To cover us all.

Leyman 2005