Dollars, nonsense, left and right
they tell, pull, push, fall
out between us and the acrid smell
of gunshots
cowers in the air.
X and Y intersect, slope tight
against each other
worlds watch us do the funky math
as curves
show it isn't fair.
Profit lives, divine holy light
them up they shriek
behind damp-smelling bunkers
money
rains, and they don't care.
Skies laced with napalm ignite
their hearts and dollar bills
in Washington, change sweaty hands
clean cash
clean-cut, everywhere.
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