"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.” The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

After the war and the Spanish flu
When I came back from Oxford,
To America,  looking for you,
I was met by the Jazz age.
Those roaring twenties, no less,
I found you in your rich man's nest
With corruption creeping up your limbs
New England's old money torturing you.
So, I sent you the green light across the bay
Hoping, Daisy, just hoping, it would say to you:
'You can have a new day, a re-formation of love,
Just walk away'.
But it ended with Myrtle's death by alcohol
And me dead by a bullet, 
Playing my part,
More fool I.