The Lost Friends

They are imprisoned 

In dark suits and air-conditioned offices

 Alsatians ready at the door

 On the saliva carpeted floor 

 They spend their nights In jet airlines – 

Would change them in mid-air 

To show how much they dare 

 Drunk from the vertigo 

Of never catching their tails 

They never seem to know 

When not to bite their nails 

 Their new addiction 

Fortifies their livers 

They are getting there

While the going’s good T

hey have no time for dreamers.