Stripped

The silhouette of crooked figures Amply lean against a wall Speaking in a foreign language As the foremost starts to crawl. Out from the window I look on the street Robots are moving quickly As they stare at their feet. The planet is turning backward Time continues on And to think the robots walking Moved the earth beneath their stomp. The bookshelf is leaning As it threatens to crush I put my hand out to stop it And it tells me to hush? ...What? Confused and lost I stumble down the stair Finding a way out Then stopped in dead air The crooked figure now before me I gaze with glistening eyes Reaches in my chest And clenches it's prize. Now a moving robot I stomp down the street Not noticing anything But my walking feet