Look at our faces
Unanchored beings
Floating from one feeling to the next
Look at our fallen angels of being
Dragging their faces
Enlightened by darkness
Look at our butchers
They're chopping themselves up
Freshly for the wet market morning
With flesh and bone, apron and cleaver
Look at our cleaners
Mopping up the remains
Of the already wasted day
And lay to waste the already wasted
The flowers of yellow and white
Of the Frangipani
Its fragrance awaiting
The emergence
Of lost superstitions
Around midnight
Look at our butterflies and flowers
Became one anew
Papilionanthe
Hookeriana & Teres
A child of Singapore no less
Ooh child of the island now
Look at our faces
Will you be the father of the man?
Of the foolish man
Of the foolish man
Look at our places
Unanchored structures
Changing from one season to the next fiscal year
Look at our losses
Habitual bosses
Flooding the streets and drowning in numbers
Look at our neighbours
Closing themselves up
Worried about the days of no future
Look at our teachers, our parents, our leaders
Take a deep breath
For we're already wasted
So lay to waste the already wasted
The flowers of red and wine
Of the Frangipani
Its scent permeating
The emergence of
Hallucinations beyond midnight
Look at our Bubuls fly
And sing along their straw-headed songs
For all of the loneliest feed
On the sliver of hope that came to rest
A child of Singapore no less
Oh child of the island now
Look at our faces
Will you live in harmony with the land?
Will you ever fend for the foolish man?