City Streets
I have seen those places, those empty spaces
Of vacant tenements, those broken remnants
Ghosts of stone and steel and wooden planks
And I've passed before the boulevards
And I've longingly peered through their wrought-iron gates
And I've seen the manicured front yards
Of the bourgeoisie estates
But the broken faces in these wretched places
In these squalid city streets, in these desperate retreats
Are faces of my own face -- blood of my own blood
Yet I've shunned the unshaven, sloven refugee
Who sleeps upon his cardboard cots
And who is every bit a part of me
Lain crumpled in those parking lots
O I have lost the feeling, that dizzy reeling
Of nauseating neon light pulsing beneath the city night
For I've withstood the madness of these city streets
And in my strangled roar of breathless breath
I've howled and raged and moaned in my mortal fear
For I've survived threats of violent death
So far, at least, so far this year
|
© 1989 Cal Thunder Hawk |