#1
The rain creates its own fog
Covering the concrete of the city streets
Lost in internal turmoil, a struggle
We all face on our own
This city is our own
It is every bit apart of us
As we are of it
It calls to us
Like the sirens calling fishermen
To their doom
We try to resist the urge
But we all succumb to temptation, eventually
City life is like heroin in our veins
We try to stop, but it keeps pulling us back
It can turn a shy harmless man
Into the next Al Capone
It turns all who enter into junkies
Sidewalk stands create a subculture
Of ethnic ignorance and bliss
Among the denizens
Of an iron and steel empire
Where have all the angels gone?
Have they been crucified?
Behind the boarded up windows and doors
Of abandoned warehouses
In the lower slums
Of a cultural wonderland
At the same time, a wasteland
Full of tarnished memories
And shattered dreams
Sin, falls into place
Into the equation of everyday life
Innocence is gone
Along with the angels
We cry for a new day
But, until that day
We endure the blistering cold winds
Slapping us in the face
Like a side-effect from an apocalyptic winter
Poetic justice serves no purpose
In a world where $10 wh0re$
Can bring you as much happiness
As opening the first present on Christmas day
It last just as long as well
When that toy breaks
The bleak, meaningless world
You try to escape
Comes rushing back at you
With twice the force as before
There is no winning
There is only suffering
But we enjoy it
I can’t possibly explain it.

Little kids play on the blacktop
Even though their hands are numb
And their faces red from the cold
They play
They play and play
Without a care in the world
No taxes to pay, no food to prepare
No worry about how they will make it to the next day.
Don’t they realize
That the world they live in
Is full of murder, rape, and drugs
All the evils one can imagine
But day after day
They return to the cracked, rocky blacktop
To enjoy life and all of its “uneven surfaces”
Only to return back home at their mother’s call
There may be hope after all
When the first fist falls.


C4C all day baby
When in doubt, sweep it out
Last edited by Halfmastmutiny at Jan 29, 2008,