Several promises ago when the sky hung low
In your hands you could place all your natural thoughts
On a race that you grope to relate with
Belong to
As you were innately taught
When your hands were your hands not merely
Dutiful promotional thumbs
Withstand what you can
No one more special but
For taste of importance can win and then become
More productive with never idle hands
As productive with your hands
As you conduct them to be
A city makes demands its plastic children understand
When the dog whistle blows look to the collar in your hand
As full of life as playing dead gets your eyes roll over hours
And seek affectionate pets
Oh how good try diversify morally impactful class sniffing nod
Brand yourself in the sunset with a cattle prod
You've done a good job!