join with me, in the empty streets
wide with ghost town syndrome
as my second mind unwinds in the indulgence

am I, the mannequin perfectly built comfortly undressed to the nines, no suit and tie to look my best
as I, scarecrow only the poor window shoppers

wishing for death, longer than they can hold their breath
from the oxygen that is evenly free
to maintain even a miserable life,  struggling out a living

no parchment paper, no parsley on the side
buried in debt, interest rates don't durendal
in a breeze whilst on medical leave
the sickly, with deep linted pockets looking to the sky for the cough drops to fall, like feather can fly

is it nonsense, to feel no common ground empathy
under a blanket of cold, sleeping in
natures man made ditches, disfavored as filth
pity thee fool, who can't count the bodies piling up
like the floors of the newest
pristine skyscraper

named, I'll never be successful enough to pay my taxes
the good American floating billions "my money"  in off shore bays
smiling with frugal achievements
because socialist skills, are not capitalist gains