It’s a sad day in Mudville,
the early bird has caught the worm.
A coalition of neck ties strangle
a regime of white collars.
Loafers eagerly seek pennies while
marching on a street made of walls.
You can still hear the echo of the starting gun
as a pig shaped nimbus slowly eats away at
the blue sky.
The American dream.
The few, the proud, the ones immune to the insatiable greed.
Ostracized by jargon of the democratic republic.
Free souls labeled hippies.
Those that would prefer to live among the trees.
Whom value the right of future generations to have fresh air to breath.
Lifestyle is freedom.
Corporations who needs ’em.
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