little boxes, little boxes, little boxes made of ticky tackynlittle boxes, little boxes, little boxes all the samenthere’s a blue one, and a green one and a plaid one and a yellow onenand they’re all made out of ticky tacky, and they all look just the samenbuy the land up and buy the water front, and the condos for the yuppie folknkeep them in debt forever, paying off their mortgagenmake them quiet, productive workers it’s good for the economynmake them think that there’s no life outside their four wallsnbuy the houses on the city block, and don’t rent them out for yearsnand when people leave the neighborhoo ‘cause it’s falling to shitnexcavate them, renovate them, or just tear them down to the groundnand build brand new little boxes for the rich folks to havenlittle boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of crappy crapnand they’ll fall apart in thirty years, but the money’s in the bankntear down houses, tear down old storesntear down trees for new hardwood floorsnmaking room for a Starbucks and a Whole Foods nearbynlittle boxes, little boxes in the light of a city nightnsomeone forgot to lock up the construction sitensteal the tools, steal the equipment, monkey-wrench the machinerynbe creative, be effective, don’t brag and don’t get caught