Chronicle Dreams

It’s a chronicle dream of seeds
Green trees and shrubbery, agreed
Worlds spin the thread of mortal greed
Hatches to axe, laws they weave
Rolled up sleeves, cuffs, minds at ease
In bars of sleaze, itchy with fleas
Like rabid dogs spreading disease
Whimpers to please, puppy dog eyes
In the face of the corporate swine
Gulping their red aged wine
Applying every tactic of grime
To slime the American’s right
Life under the skyline
Vibrant as the Northern Lights
To raise your lighters up high
In the dense of the swap’s delight
Foggy is societies crimson eyes
Blind in the left not much in the right
But maybe a few still sees alright
Lets hope they don’t die