Living In Subdivisions

Moving from one to the other,
Routines stay pretty much the same,
Lines are drawn and then retraced,
Points are determined and then argued,
Everything is based on cadastral positions,
Ideas are planted in the phases of the Moon,
Dreams are harvested when the Sun goes down,
The Red Rectangle Tavern lies
At the fringes of the known universe,
A haven for those who are victims
Of old lines and different angles,
Taken in by cosmic shysters
Who sell houses with no land,
Take rights-of-way without asking,
Maybe your life
If you’re not careful.