Golden And Really Riffy

And from the bushes, music.
Golden and really riffy.
The crew cut warrior squinted.
The colosseum was around them.
Canines rested and watched, panting.
Musical instruments were all around.
Horns, strings, gongs, and chimes.
And oh, the chimes did chime.

Then circles upon circles upon circles.
And a streaking white line.
Glares beneath the shades.
Upside down, counting.
The bizziness of the business people.
Such a waste.
Unhealthy and destructive.
Proven over and over, time after time.

It's only money, and money is easy.
The suckers, the worried, the insecure.
They will spend their days worshiping it.
Things are afforded, things are deserved.
Floating in judgement, silently.
No shock, no surprise.
Scattered and cleared, only blue now.
And cool.