Their hearts
Are chambers of alabaster
They are natural disasters
Living the artificial life
In their cozy little world
Erected on engineered lies
Abominable apparitions
Their feelings
Is cut in alabaster
They live on ice hills
In castles cut from glaciers
They are caged by their creed
Enslaved by their greed
They operate within a grid
Their condition is pitiable
But above all, unenviable
They ride on wills of steel
Going through like rims of
still
They’re on chronic déjà vus
Sad creatures of voodoo
Their mold is alabaster
Stowed away islands like Madagascar
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