The City, within the range of my sight,
With cars zooming past, where planes take flight.
I walk past many gigantic buildings,
Oblivious to all this smoke.
I hear a cackle of laughter,
The results of the bartenders nitwit joke.

A place where butterflies have long left.
A place where you play cards, with fingers oh so deft.
A place where the river has stopped to flow,
A place where we watch grime, just grow and grow.
A place where all people do is fear.
A place where we just can’t help it, with dangers lurking so near.

If you watch a person with a grin or a smirk.
Be sure, he’s come to boast his BMW or Merc.
If you ever feel a bit unhappy,
That’s not uncommon, is it, my fellow chappy.
If you ever have gold, more than an ounce,
Better keep it safe, for upon it, there’ll be hundreds to pounce.

–Edwin Joseph