I awaken to a grey sun

The songs begin to play

As every other day

Shuffled, looped, repeatedly run

As I walk by, burning

The women quietly lie

The men needlessly die

The world desperately turning

We listen

The songs of The Apple.

Our choices, free restrictions

Musical souls that dig our graves

Isolation the lonely soul craves

Dancing away our contradictions

Square God shining beautiful hurt

Creating what's been created before

A thousand times over and more

Upon ourselves we shovel the dirt

The music ends

We shuffle.