Houses Made of Stone

Houses Made of Stone

What lies beyond the cubicle
are outcasts of the world,
bodies busy all around
beneath the flags unfurled.

In the land of lunatics
there are no full reprieves
and all the eye will ever see
is what the mind believes.

But somewhere there, far past the dream
the tunnel has a light
and in the night when good survives
the truth will have a bite.

The burdens of humanity
are passing on the fly,
wasted lives and burned out dreams
still clinging to a lie.

Believers of the dream that died
and faded in the night,
workers in a world of bad
where wrong just seems so right.

By and by the people cried
as all the bridges burned,
when they stood in truth's bright light
the lesson had been learned.

Too late for some to make amends
the cries were never heard
for in the darkness they became
a prisoner of the word.

Man to man their pride is held,
respect is all they own
and all the nights are long and cold
when armor's flesh and bone.

All we are is what we are
face and soul alone,
counting sadness by the day
in houses made of stone.