Stare out the window, and up to the sky. These buildings, built like machines, each office within running smoothly like honey, Slick and heavy, like the oil of a well-greased engine.
High rises rise up, Swallowed by clouds As they leave this earth. Grey boxes, dominoes, almost appear To topple over As you watch With bated breath.
The office inside is quiet. Save for the restless tapping of keys, That relentless cough from the corner that Appears, bashfully, every few minutes. You turn back to the window.
Look up again, And this time you see Not the boxes, or engines, or dominoes No, see the clouds blowing over, then... the blue sky at last. The sunlight peers through and falls down to the glass, Each window of each office is lit up like fire.
This view, you think. You wish you could go higher, Just break through the window And soar to the skies. Freedom at last from your Office-bound cries, Sailing the wind and hovering above
Away, like a bird, Free to live life with love.