We sat upon our hands
and watched the world go by.
Counted the seas and lands,
measured from ground to sky.
The ownership was not fair,
potential to be a billionaire,
without setting up a trust
gold can't stay but can it rust?

Life grows from a seed,
we take inventory and stock.
It's more than you'll need,
who sold the last free rock?

They plant a waving flag,
and make the ground their own,
they saw those who held just a rag,
and told them it was now on loan.
When will they tax the air?
Potential to be a billionaire,
who even signed the deed,
to sell the world for greed?

Both money and tree;
they share a shade of green.
This world should be free,
who sold the last free scene?

We sat upon our hands,
and watched the world go by.
Raked in the dollars from sands,
and made money by making trees die.
We did nothing but stare,
potential to be a billionaire,
who even decided the price,
and then doubled it twice?

Now borders and walls,
on lands we all should own.
Tax lakes and waterfalls,
and see how their stock's grown.

Ivy.
It grows everywhere.
It can be poisonous,
or harmless.
Either way,
it's ivy.

I want to be like ivy.
A part of nature,
never to die.
But what use is nature,
when it sits and lies?
When it has no purpose,
other than to survive.
Isn't that the same as humanity?

Ivy is like humanity.
It grows around whatever it latches onto.
It adapts to it's environment.
It can be used,
and even admired.
It can also be hated,
and even decimated.