madmen seeking shelter…

trashcans opened up and down the street…
madmen seeking shelter….
heat rising from the underbelly of the city…
while spells are cast upon those unaware…

they who walk this town from sun-up to sun-down…
seeking refuge in abandoned cars…all night bus services…subway trains rattle off rails to a beat…beat…beat…
under trees in Central Park we lay in await of you dear policeman…come…carry us away to cell number 6….a holding tank will do just fine…

and the Port Authority bustles with hookers…hustlers…petty thieves….pedestrians…panty sniffers….Jerseyites drunkenly running to a train they’ll never catch…
while tourists drink craft beers…take-in lights cameras actions of those that dare to glare into the midnight sky high above in search of what…what….
perhaps a piece of peace….maybe a snowflake to tease the tongue….or maybe a god to call them home…

but there is no home….no hope…
just the rummaging of trashcans opened up and down the street…
madmen seeking shelter….
heat rising from the underbelly of the city…
while spells are cast upon those unaware….

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