but it was only / the usual gray rock / turning the usual green

You walk around the old neighborhood, but your heart’s not in it, nonchalantly pointing out the coffee shop you made your plans in; the jobs you had to do there. You walk around the new neighborhood, but your heart’s not in it to learn anymore about this country; the apartment you have to live in.

They decided that we didn’t fit the records that they hold, and we agreed to go. Following the hour’s ending, we know we have to leave the building. We know we have to leave all the doors unlocked.  We know we will not be the last. We know that they have got a plan too: a car for us to drive in; a box for us to die in; a vote for us to write in; an app we all confide in. 

Making money is a horrible and rotten institution. We’re here. We’re here, I told you so. I told you so, we’re here. Like oil in an ocean, like we loved that poison. Please remember as a person, it’s the land that’s always foreign. 

Can you still call it a country, if all the states are broken? Can you still call it a business, if all you do is steal? Came in on Marine Tigers or the boat Lorraine was named for. We huff and puff, but nothing comes. 

There’s nothing wrong with Jose. There’s nothing wrong with Moses.  There's​ nothing wrong with kindness. There’s nothing wrong with knowing. 

Billions by Ward Roberts

Can you just…make this easy for me? You wanna get in my car?