Sycophantic bright lights worship the pavement

Haunted by moments never seen by a million eyes

All staring right at the event horizon of a bustling point of geography nobody wanted to end up at

An ant hill of hallowed threads all leading into the center

There will be no escape if you get caught in the current

Washed by the dry eyes of vacant points of view

There is no stopping the gears of this vessel

It began long ago and it will continue to churn far after the last limb ceases to breath

But before that moment could ever come, the Sun looked down through its fiery blaze and spoke,

“In the end, I knew you were a fake, because we had so much in common.”

And it combusted, ending all life on Earth.