Manhattan
New York City
It’s not a Zen zone
It’s a money machine
ATM life
You gotta make a lot of it
Just to stay average
Yet there is a beauty in that
It’s a flesh on flesh town
Intermingling of the masses
Nobody knows who’s got what
The gardeners work on rooftops
My lawn is never brown
Because there is no grass
Everyone smokes pot though
It wafts into your head space
Skunking every corner
I don’t do drugs
I’m trying to give up drinking
Sugar doesn’t make me sweet
Frozen red seedless grapes save the day
