It’s not easy being green
But it’s even harder getting seen
When you’re a vestigial part
Of a large machine
You’re factory-made
But your state is decayed
Your body’s a house with a bad design
And someone’s found a way break inside
You live in the house until you’re all the way grown,
Til you’re out on your own and you’re all alone
When you have no money for lunch
And your parents say tough
You grab a handful of coins
And you hope it’s enough
You need to find a job
Besides being a crook
You want to write out history
Just to have your name in a book
It’s your lifelong dream just to feel seen
Not to live above a Dry Cleaners on 17th
And work in a factory that employs preteens
In your life of theft,
You don’t have much left,
So you focus on your breath
Because life is a side effect of death