Street lights hang,
Pavements patter,
Old whisky bars,
go ***** your chatter.
Life Story’s thrown around like bags of old noise,
in love with these strangers,
Where Men become boys.
Cash,
splashed,
Noses,
dashed,
Kicked down Dopamine doors,
Cigarettes curling the words on your breath,
Ignoring the morning,
The city is yours x