Round and round, the city walls,
through the market, college halls
cafe lights, and golden smiles,
rest a little, walk for miles.
Drinking men with ravaged faces,
darkened streets, forbidden places,
pretty women, cigarettes,
house of worship, place your bets.
Skulking, hooded, baseball caps,
fall into the city’s traps;
heroin, just one illusion,
like alcohol, and prostitution.
Chained-up bikes, and low-cut tops,
flashy Nikes, too many cops;
cap and gowns, the lost and founds,
beggars with their scruffy hounds.
Beards and bars, the odd cigar.
A drifter with his old guitar.
Sipping at the best champagne;
freezing in the wind and rain.
Our presence is unwanted,
the ones nobody knows;
now we dream of what was home,
we wait to die in streets, alone.