I look at bricks with envyFor they never feel a thingThey never take offense toNotice where they're dissistingI look at bricks with angerFor they haven't got a careAnd should they be in dangerNone of them would be awareI look at bricks with sadnessFor despite the heat and coldThey never try escapingGrowing anything but oldI look at bricks impassiveLike a flower-mited stemPretending that I haven'tFigured out I'm one of them
