People are a disease

People shuffling past me like corpses to stupid to die
Their clothes hold their guts in
Fear holds in the rest
Running like rats
Scurrying through waste paper and filth to their holes before the sun goes down
They have umbilical cords of sewage wrapped around their throats
Choking on life, nursing their wounds
They'll tell you that they're loving every minute of it
Just like prisoners come to love their captors
Just like roaches in a roach motel
Tasting the poison, telling you it's wine