Chained in a corporatocracy chasing dead money dreams like litter in the wind, office eyes gazed to Tess the Spy.
They knew she was different. They didn't know why. In their arguments of misery she heard only proxy wars for love.
Drawing snapshots of souls in the day, driving city boulevards at night capturing destinies of characters she espied.
In the molten rage of civilization's twilight, colors fade to black, aching for dawn's renewal - and there Tess will be capturing the day's joy.
They knew she was different. They didn't know why. In their arguments of misery she heard only proxy wars for love.
Drawing snapshots of souls in the day, driving city boulevards at night capturing destinies of characters she espied.
In the molten rage of civilization's twilight, colors fade to black, aching for dawn's renewal - and there Tess will be capturing the day's joy.
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