something slowly moved
through the sky like a giant whale
it wasn't anything forget it

there was a story but it was forgotten
time left muddy footprints on the carpet

the conversation was dead as an art form
now people just lied
about everything

this was seen as the new positivism
the taking control of ones life
corporations were the ideal

he looked at the window but it wasn't
really a window
it showed all the thoughts
that his friends thought were
worth lying about