we grind corporate skateboards

new monetary tats

sell your time

your soul

and the soles of your feet

to the grind

the world is a series of lines

guidelines

bylines

laws

and rules

the revolution may not be televised

but it will be organized

into lines i bet

from the bathroom

to the classroom

I’ve got mine’s in line

Do you?

Grinding until my calves are sculpted enough to cut diamonds

while winding through capitalist crowds

son servant surf boards

don’t sip the vines

snaking through our lives

and these kiddie rhymes

Adam.