Was it for this?

Pale light shadows our thoughts,
Whizzing from here to there and nowhere,
No maps to hand, we wander into plastic lives
Behind screens and magazine gloss.

Time ceases. To rush and crackle,
It surges all around but never forward,
Tomorrow never comes, strangled dead
By Today’s presents

Which we hoard. What dreams may come?
But those we are taught by masked men,
Branding our imaginations, until colours drain grey
and hope is but a click away.

Was it for this we are born?
Neat streets and neon lights
And shops selling our souls for gated fence.
Nothing to do but laugh or cry
‘Cos tomorrow we all gonna die’.