Green and cerulean,
Clear skies and a nice view,
Only the best can attest the wealth
That Bayside accumulates.
.
Not everything is clean,
The voyage to the town,
Isn't as fun as it seems,
Small yet so vile: a plummeting vicinity.
.
The roads and high up
over the price apartments,
Harbored neighboring buildings that treat you,
Like a little cottage stuck inside a vacant land.
.
Imagine being a fish going home,
As a boat motors over your sacred place,
Not a care in the world,
Destroying your essence.
.
Trees are rooted from their home,
Lying all around like the aftermath of a tremendous storm,
Destroying the boats that have invaded their homes.
.
Stores are constantly shutting down,
As new ones replace their existence,
Like a loose papered memory against the wind.
.
Brown and dirty,
A terrible view,
Ha-ha Bayside,
I've stood up and vanquished you.