Concrete Grass

We are not going green
Only grey
Dress it up with graffiti called art
It's still lipstick on rubble

Whole neighborhoods cover the fields
Swallowing quaint towns
And old men with stubble

Even the green remaining requires shoes
Needles, and perfecting pesticides
Children laughing
Using chalk in a concrete bubble

A lucky few still skip out the front door
Blades between toes
But tax coffers echo
As mayors longingly stare at them
Through their Hubble

"So long!", Progress laughs
Corn that isn't corn
Farmland paved under
As science produces double

Too much is produced, and gets thrown out
While thousands upon thousands still starve
Rainforests are buried
And my feet give me trouble