Three red quarters. Still, the devs believe.
Vitalik posts a roadmap, calm and slow.
I checked the chart again before I grieve.

My aunt asks why I bought what I can't see.
She trusts a deed, a ledger she can hold.
Three red quarters. Still, the devs believe.

Glamsterdam ships in pieces, hard to weave
into a candle that refuses to grow.
I checked the chart again before I grieve.

A nonprofit was born on July first, naive
enough to think five hundred banks would show.
Three red quarters. Still, the devs believe.

The flippening we joked about, achieved
in nothing but the losses, quarter by quarter, slow.
I checked the chart again before I grieve.

Someone tweets fundamentals, and I want to leave
the tab open, just in case it isn't no.
Three red quarters. Still, the devs believe.
I checked the chart again before I grieve.