The Gold Standard

A great heap of cash

Was anchored to a golden fleece
But the great hole in the ground
Changed everything

Caution set fire to the wind
Burning green just for the sake of it
Hoovervilles sprung up
Like glowing islands of despair

One ramshackle home
Sat above a pocket of riches
But the coughs and sores
Obscured the cries of bullion
There was crying from the home above
And it collided with the wails from below
Oblivious choruses reaching beyond the the little home
Beyond the group of hovels
Even extending beyond the ‘ville itself
But they died shortly beyond the outermost structure
A lawman thought he had heard something
But must’ve been mistaken

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