Death seems a Treat.

Surround the land with city sound  
scrape up all the dead,  
what need have these for tended mound  
their feelings have all fled.  
 
Tear up the trees and greenery  
spread concrete instead,  
what need have we for sight of these  
erect blocks not homestead.  
Around the sound of city roar  
glares the stunning light,  
as upwards concrete units soar  
stabbing away the night.  
A triumph over little men  
with mean and earthy minds  
men who think the battery hen  
is cruel and unkind.  
 
Surround the land with city sound  
bounce it off concrete,  
let it reverberate and bound  
till death seems a treat.