The Atoll

Hector (cont.)
Disposable shells built for wear and tear
Of curious minds expanding consciousness
Paolo
They make their servitude a saintly gift
I wish I had an off day avatar
Hector
Then youve begun to grasp your situation
In those old days your like my erstwhile peers
Would act as if I was invisible
But on this coral island I count true
Salvatore
Look my hand cut clean through this bus boy here
Gianni
See my hand swiped clean through that waitress there
Hector
The victuals virtual dished are real enough
My palate though is purely sunshine based
Excuse me being so self evolved point blank