The Concrete Jungle

Parables of the jungle   

To be caught off guard, loosing out     

Back to the end of lines food chains  

I live in a concrete jungle   

Mega cities of deep steel forestation  

With glass clouds of sky scrappers   

Where the very rich grow wings like birds   

And live on the tallest nest of concrete trees   

Safe and secured with comfort of paint-house view  

Sounds of cars and population chatter   

Echoes in these forest  in mumbling rush   

Like a wave's grand entrance unto shorelines

While pollution on the streets 

Is only matched by that of the cows 

With their moo and back farts, greenhouse gas    

At night fall the hunters do gather

Picking on the vulnerable 

Who missed a safety spot to lay their rest 

The wilder-beast who fell behind on migration.  

Crocodile tears shared in the pond of habitation, 

It is the vultures and eagles that lurk above taunting 

Surrounding encircling before invading lions

To catch vulnerability off guard  

I live in a concrete jungle 

That is just what it is, a concrete jungle 
Cars become birds with their horn blow 
Bicycles become insects with flyby