New York is like Seattle
If all the trees died
And all the people had to look at
Was each other.
So they ate a feast
They roasted suits on Pike Street
They steamed the hills
On ironing boards so large
The iron came from Mars
The tragically hip roamed free
Kicking the Blacks out of CD
In CapHill they made a museum to QFC
In Death Marsh they floated away into
Clearcuts they rented cheap
Weyerhauser and IKEA became one
They built Condos in Forks
They opened Starbucks in every clearcut
And all that lived there were retired baristas.
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