The Orchestra at the Ball

Up on the ladder the insides are removed

We slide like slime through the flock paper walls

But as you're not really listening you won't notice at

All

We are empty and confused it barely keeps us amused

These are bad clothes for rich folks who have joined

The master race

All we want is to be like you

We beg

For the scraps

From your

Table

There is really no need to fear

Were the orchestra at the ball

Trussed up in tuxedoes

For slaveships

Unforgiving

Pencil sharp

Well at least

You look the part