Like the city that nurtured my greed and my pride,
I stretched my arms into the sky
I cry Babel! Babel! Look at me now
Then the walls of my town, they come crumbling down
Nobody’s born Fake, she sang on top of the tower’s radiant might. It does not meant to entertain, her singing, and she does not wear a night gown.
We are made, we are mechanisms built by industry that surrounds us. We wake, we thought about how to produce things we do not know the true meaning of. We are stuffed by the dream of being the lord of our time; wealthy, powerful and virtuous . Our predefined norm was made by law and religion, excessively polished by the dream of heaven and jingoistic media.
We all walk towards our very own tower of babel.
And how it shall crumble, scream us then, to save and to bring us home.