Grays

They call this the planet of pain
We look but do not see it
They’re in the slums
Diving into shit

Shantytowns perched on dumps
Children fighting big packs
Of rats gnawing at the
Tender finger joints

The internally broadcast screen
Has replaced our eyes and
Hidden the poor away
On dark continents

And the grays are sad because
They feel all of their pain
Knowing full well how
To make things better

And the grays had a plan and
It has been executed and
Just look at the special
Children growing up

These special kids are their work
Changing the world simply by
Improving human genetics
Making better children

Better able to receive the lightning
Arching out of blackness into
The sky above our heads
Illuminating clouds