ON THE TAXPAYER'S DIME

Trashcan toppled over at the corner

Everyone avoids it

A few find some generosity in the bottom of the tank of their heart

To drop some coins

But it doesn't matter

All the beggars whose donation bin used to be a pot to piss in

They've left their post

They've called it quits

Cardboard signs explaining their tragic life story remain, flattened by the stinging apathy

Happens outside, happens down below

Everyone treats like that homeless man, and his friends, sprawled out over a entire train car

Indistinguishable from skunks, from ferrets, etc.

All of them need a haircut and a shave

All of them need a wardrobe change

Some of their mouths are wide open

Sucking the air in

Blinded by the light

Sucking at the tit of the taxpayer

Those above shut down the city

On the taxpayer's dime

A city that's abandoned God

Haven't seen a cross on the Empire State in decades

A city is reborn

Remade into Gotham

Prisoners are generously given early release

On the taxpayer's dime

Whether or not this pandemic is real

The sickness that we can feel, but not see is a feature, not a bug

These landmark hotels that haven't been given the official designation

Are transformed into Arkham Asylum

The Suicide Squad of homeless people, abandoned veterans and prisoners

Get first-class treatment as they're rounded up and trafficked into these hotels

Some of these people are citizens

And they're treated no differently than the poor migrant workers and innocent, vulnerable children who pour over the border

NGOs and humanitarian initiatives aid and support their arrival

We'll accept the world's poor and hungry

But at what cost, what limit?

We shut the lights off, and turn off the pipes in our country

And most people end up having to double down on the savings they don't even have

If we continue on this path,

There'll be no bites left to take out of the Big Apple

This city is a bubble that needs to pop

Needs a reset that's not led, not forwarded by those with no skin in the game

Those who use other people's children as skin in the game

The next mayor ain't gonna address that

The next mayor ain't going to fix crime, or hold Wall Street accountable

He or she ain't going to increase school choice, or make housing affordable

Just like any average pedestrian

With AirPods clogging the pipes in their ears

Proudly bugged and carrying around a socially acceptable tracking device

He'll step around that trash can

Won't be caught dead, near the scene of that crime

During a photo-op

He'll keep it moving, pressing

For the press that hasn't been tested

And wave to the world like he's Miss America

The media will blow that shit up, best believe

Ignore the rats, roaches, the walls down under

In the train station that haven't been patched up in

A decade

The whole world's a stage

A trashcan like that is just a prop

On the taxpayer's dime.