Where is the beauty in this flourescant landscape?
Where is the sunlight I totally depend on?
Where is my freedom to grow as I please?
Where is my water? have I been forgotten?
Air-conditioned atmosphere, my insides are going rotten.
Fag buts and tea dregs, make it to my guts,
No one gives a damn, about my fading looks,
Where are my bee tenders to fertilise my flower,
Will I ever chance to mate, in amongst these towers,
Or should I perhaps accept my fate and
the occasional golden shower!
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