"It's a Jungle Out There"

13/1/95

Looking out from behind the bars of my skull,
my flesh binds me within the cell
and my muscles strain at the lock.
People pass me by, walking down the street;
doing very normal things,
buying cloths, looking for something to eat.
They're all talking and milling around,
jostling, laughing, haggling, socialising;
they are the great Human crowd.
In my mind the animal roars.

"How do you do ?" says Mr Waxjacket to
Lady Leggings,
studying each other, thoughts of coupling.
He is married, she has three kids,
Down in the ruts the cycle begins.
In pristine clothing, or a fashionable mess,
the Human herd stirs, leaving a trail
of unrest.
Our primitive mind remembers,
and the animal roars.

During the light hours the herd conforms,
but after disk it is transformed.
It rapes and mugs.
It burgles and sniffs drugs.
Step by step, it slops back, into the
primordial mud.
Oh human kind, we should be so noble !
If you look at it all, we are the
base animals.