The side walk is hot and sweats dirt and grime, it flows into gutters full of lime and trickles and moans heading below, deep to place we do not know, foot steps are steady and sure on the ground a wind blows trash and dreams around like a wind storm rushing to feed a fire, another lost life amidst the pyre, inside the lights fighting the nights people circle themselves with hope, be more times than not they're quickly forgot, after all there's always the dope,

The images fly, twist and jump while I lay a top this pile of junk inside a vision procured with pain I'm washed with tears again and again, there was a time, I did walk tall, never needing to hold the wall or ask for food or hide my face I use to love this wicked place, but now with night closing in I sit and wait and sigh with-in, another walk to find the dope and feed my want and kill my hope.