march through the grime
your proud head bobs back and forth
dine on scraps
and turn your back on my wheels in the track
reverse the roles
as you dispose
of me i fold
cause I peck the ground
and without a sound
I'll be going home
I'll pay homage to
the human zoo
with a package or two
I'd still much rather be
alive to feed
thats guaranteed
well the rats have wings
but they're stuck like us in the atmosphere
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