A little excercise in the futility and sameness of a suburb that practices NIMBY.
| perfectly manicured lawns,
caucasian sitting atop his iron steed.
blades go whirring by,
bag collects, into the garbage it goes.
poisons on our lawn gives us headaches today,
commute to work gives it another way.
white bred houses,numbers in the millions
the man wants to add a wal mart,
out comes the shout of NOT IN MY BACKYARD!
lawyers come,lawyers go,
wal mart forgot to dot an i and add an o.
jose he works,
his wife needs his money,
another is on the way,
she says to her honey.
in the suburbs where his work is to be found.
gardening he does and he does it well,
thats why he wonders,
when tries he does,
to get a house
and out comes the shout, NOT IN MY BACKYARD!
a melting pot is what we are to be,
fiction it is
as long as it stays,
NOT IN MY BACKYARD!