Only Bureaucrats Are Interested In Remaining With The Stationary

I gotta admit, this didn't end where I thought it would. But here we are! The title was originally going to be a line in the poem. Oddly, I was listening to a love song while I wrote this...


That cool hand
Reaches out to take hold
Soothing you with numbers
Placing you in the fold

You got lost
All out on your own
Walk with these grey steps
Drink the bones of your new home

It’s got such a cold voice
That kisses us with song
Taking all those lonely people
Giving them somewhere to belong

The last threadbare rope
To the broken hearted deep
That carries us to the lullaby
Churning out a never ending sleep

So forget the sunshine
Of that now lost day
Just let the cold hands rock you
And gently take you away