Along the wall at East Wall road,
A throng of people walk by a traffic truckload.
All in a row they march like soldiers,
Subconsciously in sequence with their coffee holders.
Each suit pressed within perfection,
On their way to works direction.
Each day the same route they pace their stride,
Timed with perception and utter pride.
Arriving at the exact time predicted,
“Ahhh, in time for a coffee” – Addicted
Clinging to their eyeballs by the time 3pm comes,
Watching the clock as it runs.
Not a minute later will they wait,
Work is just a life dictate.