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
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