spying
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Spy of high, its a poor's Cry Spare the Honest ,do not Pry
Don't You know it hurts so bad when my blue bird just can't fly
talk to the nobles, say my sigh i am so naïve, don't know to get by
There's someone (a man I assume) on the tracks
texting and looking around.
Does he know I'm watching him
in his gross-looking grey flannel
that looks like something I would have worn in the winter of ninth grade?
Our lasting words written in code
The internet becomes our new home
Interconecceted for better and for worst
The hateful words we type and curse
We succumb to a wealth of knowledge
