The High Life.

Her Dull and weathered state of mind, Oppressed by clouds of modern times.
Caged by steel and concrete towers
Her depression darkens hour by hour;
The beauty of life and country sour.

The elevator has made a stand
And sworn defiance by raise of hand,
So on to hell upon weary feet
To hide from life under filthy sheets-
A fatherless burden, her maker meets.
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