Affluence At The Altar

Almost completely out of it
Down there they are like slaves
Trash boys wallow in the low light
Tepid people staring at their faces
Now we are standing idle in the shadow of an overpass
I remember driving through the end of it
When all the roads were still paved over
Sneering within the jail was a twilight
That watched the sun break apart its cage
Try not to think, wait for the ominous moan to pass
Almost completely numb to it
The dark hoards of spinning waste latching on
Like a leech to indecent life
Sinister people just waiting on their graves
They pray to the altar of an overpass
They are affluence at the altar of an overpass