A vulture stood stark on the top,
Of a stranded skyscraper in the city,
No place to go, no where to hide.
There it stood alone and lonely.
Rats hustling in the gutters,
Like the men above on the streets,
No words to say, no song to sing,
Hustling along for a days dream.
Vulture scooped down below,
On a rat for food.
And the Reaper did the same
For them, it was a days work.
Down below, a broken down vehicle,
Traffic smoke trailing miles away
In a traffic Jam, was a corpse
Of a man, who died alone and lonely.