Out here at the breaking point
Where the tension snaps
and steel towers topple
Out of sight out of mind
No inconvenient views
for the vehicle of your convenience
Laboring in Lang’s sublevels
while they float away
in bubbles of artificial comfort
Their progeny consumed
with meaningless pursuits
Occupied in distraction
They do not see the hopes
that once lived in the night skies
The earth still scarred at Mort-Homme
where they delivered death
wearing God with us in brass