Night time or is it day
The electric lights of sunshine
Confuse the populus who
Stumble from the drunken dives
To alleyways of risque actions
Falling to the knees of
Gluttoness business men
Wading through their own filth
Of greed and embezzlement
Of young mothers desperate
To hang on to the life of late
To walk among the balustrade
Of buildings in the labyrinth
As elderly wave and curse
From windows a top another
World from above
To heaven in the high rise
Cop out havens of concrete
And paint with scent of spice
To the men with homes labelled
Fragile and this way up
The fingerless gloves stained with
The certainty of doom
The weight of two nickels
The feeling of grace
The wine stained chin speaks
Of stories
Of pain
But listens no one to burden
The too fast
City life.
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