Rats and Robots

On the back of an eagle,
I fly.
Looking down below me,
At the world.
From atop the clouds,
I see the rats in their race.
Each striving to pass the one ahead of them,
Only to slow and get overtaken.
Never realizing they are nothing but pawns,
Disposable, replacable pawns.

On the top of a building,
I stand and view.
All of the robots beneath me,
Never varying from their monotaneous boring lives.
Nothing more than programmed machines,
Lacking the capability and will power for decision making.
Monkey wrench thrown into the mix,
World as they know it shutting down.

On the sidewalk of a city I sit,
And sing of what I've seen.
Passersby scoff at my lyrics,
Unwilling to open their eyes and see for themselves.
Living a life of cold darkness,
Instead of emerging into the warm light of intellectual freedom.
Discontent and criticism multiplying,
I get up to part.
Looking back I shake my head,
As the joyous unlightened ones applaud my leaving.
So I will take my songs elsewhere to a land far away,
For I have no desire to live among rats and robots.