There\'s not enough towers piercing the sky
not enough ground for the houses to lie,
too little sea for the ships to dry,
too little future for the dreamers to scry.
And they grow within the mason\'s panes,
glass jar of a city strange, rigid are its boundaries
and its homeliness is floundering
underneath urban decay.
Too much city sediment, drowning cheap apartments
developing a monolith of melancholy sentiment,
sunshine filters in fetid and there grows all a rancid
sort of riot, people growing-
more and more, older and tired
of glass walls they see out of
but never escape from.
Plenty of too much
in too little plenty
jars of jaundice are like little cities
grown so big that the flies just aren\'t fitting.