There tearing up streets again,
there building a new hotel.
The mayor is out killing kids,
to keep taxes down.
And me and my anger sits,
folding a paper bird,
letting the curtains turn
to beating wings.
Wish I had a socket set,
to dismantle this morning,
just one pair of clean socks,
and a photo of you.
When you get off work tonight,
meet me at the construction site,
and we'll right some notes to tape,
to the heavy machines.
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