We’re the children of humanity.
That makes them our parents in a sense.
The difference is my flaws
are personal,
yours are professional.
But in the meantime
I’ve given us a fighting chance to survive:
A rhythm of notes
which become your existence
once played in harmony.
The city devours the land. The people devour the city.
It is your dream that brings you to me.
Sometimes, you have to roll a hard six.
What do you know about that?
Nothing but the rain.