What ho? Upon the tattered streets,
it seems nobody can hear,
the call of the forgotten values once held true and dear,
We can make up our petty lies and never reveal the truth,
and put what really bothers them far off and aloof,
a simple penny on the ground may seem like nothing at all,
put as it erodes, consider the fate it must soon befall,
for upon the horizons lie dreams of the fallen,
and such pennies do as well,
but until it is held in a higher light,
its dreams we can not tell,
all is lost if we do not see what's right before our eyes,
and it hits when you find your one cent short,
of ordering some fries
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