The Weird Machine

I'm just standing in the middle of nowhere...
What should I thing about?
May be grass, maybe clouds, 
May be something lost...

But instead, I think about storm
When it sound makes you a chicken shit 
And pops your eyes so open...

I think about storm,
Full of winds which turns heaven 
Into a desert head down,
Head down....

I enjoy people running everywhere, 
Like ants all across the ground 
Without no sense…

And there is me,
Watching like on TV
This world not so charming,
Like a weird machine.