The city smells of old cigars
And beggars hats and beaten jackets
Soggy cigarettes in smoking rooms
And smokestacks’ wheezed out excrement

The city sounds of hacking men
And crazed and convoluted souls
Sobs and usherings of dreary stories
Told in alleys, heard in echoes

The city feels of fuming vibrations
And hopped up kids shoving past
A slippery sidewalk in the rain
A chill throughout October’s last

The city tastes of soured raindrops
And Mexican food cooked on the grill
A washed up drunks stinking breath
And bourbon in the city sewers

The city looks of poverty and depression
Cold folks huddled in the street
Schizos muttering to themselves
Rushed by lights that burn with heat

The city never sleeps
Nor does it pity
All the people in the streets
All the children in the city…