I’m thrown as hard truths; in summer I’m appealing I’m the color of a color and the hint of a feeling

I can be created by glue, or stamped on a letter I’m a bit like a dog, but typically wetter

I scurry across your desk or garden bed, Clicking or squeaking, wherever I’m led.

I have two banks, but I do not have any capital. I am known for my liquidity.

Some white men in green suits, a bunch breaking bread As time goes by, a yellow dye pervades their garments threads Then longer still, their coffee spills and stains them all with brown Before too long those friends have gone, I ran them out of town