I'm on a bus,
I'm in a tunnel,
As the choppers fly low
Over the belly of damnation,
Looking down at
The fractured city
From the 44th floor,
I'm a gun turret,
Hit or miss
The light pours out of me,
Now I'm a solar panel,
A Christmas tree,
Powered up
And manufactured,
The sum of my parts
Somehow worth more
Than what it means
To be human.