All In One

This must be odd, and I think it's old.

So many people and all so cold.

Short hair, long hair, dark hair, light.

They look at you with so much spite.

Short, tall, fat, thin.

Don't say a word; you'll never win.

Yet still, they come again, and again.

They parade through the door like ants to honey.

They have to come, and yes, it's funny.

They have to come to spend their money

Candy, coffee, icy, cokes.

I tell you, really, this is no joke.

In they file, it's never-ending.

Smile and nod. Their demeanor is bending.

Yellow, red, black, and white underneath, we're all alike.

Like from within a dream, I once awoke.

We are one beneath this cloak.